


A Just Fight

by craneyourneck



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bisexual Harry Potter, Black Hermione Granger, F/M, Hermione is Half Nigerian, Phone Sex, Slow Burn, Smart Harry Potter, The Grangers - Freeform, Werewolf Politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:02:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26504845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/craneyourneck/pseuds/craneyourneck
Summary: Hermione finds herself in the middle of a new fight after the war. How can she save House-Elves if she blatantly ignores the prejudices against magical people like her, against werewolves? Gradually, our heroine discovers how to fight for justice in the Magical World, starting with a Summer internship at the Wizengamot and running her own advocacy group.As for Harry, no fight is a good fight if you're not questioning authority and falling in love along the way.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 39
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> J.K.Rowling may have created the characters of Harry Potter, but I believe fandom has made them better. Her actions, her words, and her attitude are not to be forgotten, nor forgiven. Trans lives matters, and Black trans lives matter. Period. 
> 
> I've come back to HP fandom because I want to write a better story to the young and hopeful warrior I used to be.

**MAY 1998 - RON**

Two weeks after Voldemort’s demise, Hermione apparated outside the Burrow to announce her plans to fly to Australia — via Muggle transport, no less — and retrieve her parents. While not all Death Eaters had been captured, Hermione felt safe enough to look for her family and atone for her actions to keep them safe. Hermione missed her parents terribly. Her heartache was too immense and it was time for her to be their daughter again. 

After some heartwarming well wishes from some Weasleys, a flustered and surprised Ron asked Hermione to take a walk. They ignored the gnome-infested cabbage patch out in the garden. For once, no Weasley bothered with the thought of the little creatures roaming freely in their new home. The gnomes found a moment of peace in the middle of the Weasleys’ mourning. 

_Oh, ever_ - _the-romantic-Ron_ offered to fly with Hermione to Australia since he was her boyfriend. Okay, may-be boyfriend, thought Ron; truth was, they never discussed their shared kiss in the Chamber, nor the other two times they’d snogged. Ron was better at physical shows of affection than sharing feelings, so a flight to Australia, to Ron, was a step in the right direction in their new life without Voldemort. He thought a trip together, to retrieve her obliviated parents was something a good boyfriend should do.

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea, Ron,” Hermione tried to dissuade him. “Mummy and daddy will have to fly back and you’ve got no passport as far as I’m concerned. I would also like to have some time with them alone, if that’s alright with you… I want to get them to trust me again and limit my magic around them.”

“Hide who you are?” Ron felt bitter that a muggleborn had to hide their magic, was it not the point of the whole world to accept them into the Magic Realm? He missed Hermione’s flinch at his tone. She thought he’d grown to be more tactful with her, with her concerns, and her situation. She remembered him being a better listener when he’d returned to the tent. 

“That’s not what I _said_ ,” Hermione tried to keep her tone down. She was so tired of correcting, of fighting, of saying what she meant twice over and over again. “My parents are living as Muggles with no knowledge that magic exists. The same magic I used on them without their _consent_ to obliviate them. I want them to feel like they could trust me again, with and without magic. That’s who I am to them. And you should be here with your parents, they need you, too. I don’t want to take you away from them when you’re all —” 

“Yeah, I get it.” He didn’t want to hear anything related to Fred. All the previous times Hermione had brought up his brother, Ron pushed past the pain and kissed her. Ron thought more time with Hermione could bring him more opportunities to feel good, do good, and make her see she had not made a mistake in the Chamber of Secrets. “I thought it was a good idea because we are together…?”

Hermione stepped away from his advances, quite literally. “Right. I will write to you and Harry when I land. I think owls can make the trip. If not, I’ll look into Magical Melbourne for other alternatives. I also made Harry get a mobile, so I can always call.” 

He thought that was the new tephylone he’d seen Harry carry around at Grimmauld, an inbetween House for his best friends during the Summer. On the third day after the Battle at Hogwarts, Hermione persuaded Harry to return to the old Grimmauld Place and begin mending his relationship with Kreacher. In turn, Harry convinced Hermione to move into the Black Home while she gathered herself. Ron had little time to voice his opinion, he was so caught over funerals and taking care of his mum. He stopped feeling bothered when Kreacher’s dinners became a regular staple at the Weasley Home. 

Ron shook a gnome off his leg and swallowed his jealousy down. He reminded himself that Harry and Hermione were just friends. “How’s Harry, by the way? He hasn’t stopped since Sunday. He’s not avoiding Ginny, is he?” 

“Harry is caught up in everything. Minister Shacklebolt really wants to show the magical community they can trust the new government, and Harry likes Kingsley enough to pop into some trials here and there. He hates them, you know. I thought defeating Voldemort would give Harry more freedom. I know setting the new government is important — there were so many imperiused members of the Wizengamot, after all, I wish it didn’t all come at the expense of a 17 year old. 

“All to say, I don’t think he is avoiding Ginny. He is just so busy, doing _so_ much. Sometimes I wish he had the guts to get up and leave… For a while, not forever,” she quickly amended.

Being a romantic did not make him blind to the fact that Hermione was running away from something herself, or someone, he bitterly thought. He was scared to find out the truth, so he stuck to topics that were not about them. “Was Harry at Malfoy’s trial?” 

He’d heard from his dad how Malfoy landed probation, and he was to continue serving it while at Hogwarts. The Heir to the Malfoy fortune walked away with a simple slap on the wrist and all he had to do was help the Castle’s restoration. Ron walked away from the Battle without a sibling. He voiced as much rage to Hermione who looked uncomfortable under his tirade. 

“Harry thought it was fair,” Hermione responded to Ron’s accusations about their old schoolmate. “He says Malfoy was very cooperative, and not just for his own defense, but he gave more information about the Imperius Squad. I don’t like him, trust me, Ron, I don’t. But I’m beginning to think, well, Malfoy _didn’t_ kill Dumbledore. He did all of that because his family was in too deep and we know he was protecting his mum… He was a victim to his own name and Harry reckons he never wanted to join Voldemort to start. He wasn’t under the imperius curse, but he was trapped.”

“Hermione, he is a Death Eater! Purebloods who think they’re better than the rest. He wasn’t trapped, he wanted to join You-Know-Who back at Hogwarts! Even Harry told us how he bragged about his ‘Big Mission’ in Sixth Year.”

“I’m not disagreeing with him being a bigot. I’m only suggesting we don’t add revenge to our prison sentences—”

“Where is this coming from?”

“From you, right now, talking about how people deserve to be punished. I’ve been doing some reading, and if we really want to find peace, we can’t go back to how things were. It’ll be a cycle of revenge over and over again. We have to learn to forgive and realize not all Purebloods are dark wizards, just like Muggle-Borns are not magical thieves.” 

Ron’s neck muscles cramped as he felt a sour taste in his mouth. He took a step back, tried to create distance between Hermione and what he just heard. “I can’t forgive the scum that killed my brother, Hermione.” 

“Ron, that’s not what I said! Ron, I’m sorry — I shouldn’t have, _please,_ don’t go. I can explain.” 

Ron turned back to the Burrow and was reminded of how he walked away from her once, six months ago. He heard the same quiver in her voice, and knew he would come to regret this, too. “Tephylone Harry when you get to Australia and save the owl.” 

~ * ~ 

The Wednesday after Hermione’s visit, Ron found Harry seated next to Ginny and his dad on their kitchen table with a half eaten shepherd's pie. He noticed his mum’s absence. 

“Hiya Harry.” 

“Hey. Hermione called, she’s landed okay. I came to let you know, since, er, owls were hard to find in Melbourne.” Harry was used to being in the middle of his best friends whenever they fought. He learned to carefully select half truths when communicating between the two of them. 

Ron levitated a plate from the cupboard and served himself a slice of pie. “Thanks, mate. Did she say anything else?” 

“Harry was just telling us before you got here. Go on, Harry. How is she? Did she find her parents?” Ginny leaned over Harry with such enthusiasm, Ron knew she was anxious to have any good news that could fill her up and forget about her own heartache. 

Mourning was a fickle thing. 

Harry’s face brightened as he recalled his earlier conversation with Hermione. “She sounded good, _really good_ for once. She only landed this morning; 7am our time, which was 4pm there — nine hour difference, I had to learn. Hermione said she was going to check into her hotel first and start her search tomorrow. She felt the _point-me_ activate as soon as her feet touched soil, which is promising. Apparently she’d prepped that and 4 other spells on them to help find them. Brilliant, isn’t she?” 

Ron saw Ginny hide her jealousy with another mouthful of Kreacher’s pie. He once promised his sister nothing happened between Harry and Hermione while on their own, but sitting in the middle of his kitchen he started to doubt his own words. He’d noticed the War had not broken some habits between the pair, and without a Horcrux to hang off his neck, he had little reason to excuse his jealousy.

When his friends were in the same room, they kept near each other, ready to hold hands and apparate if danger presented itself. At Grimmauld, their routine took on a domestic tone as they moved with ease to prepare meals, despite Kreacher’s insistence or Ron’s presence. With no war in sight and less weight on their shoulders, the two best friends created a pattern of comfort around each other. Shamelessly, this had been another reason to travel to Australia with Hermione, and find what the two could build as a couple. 

“How long does she plan to stay there?” Arthur asked Harry. 

“Four weeks. If all goes well, she’ll fly back with her parents on June 20.” 

“Does she have enough funds for a month?” Ron wondered out loud. 

“She’ll be fine. I asked her to let me help her pay for the trip and I didn’t take no for an answer,” Harry looked like he’d shared more than he wanted. 

“Oh, that was nice of you,” said Ginny with hints that the couple had more to discuss in private.

Harry, caught in his secret, continued, “It was the least I could do, Gin. I wanted to make sure she felt safe and protected while she was there since she didn’t have — since Ron and I are not there.” 

Ron already regretted his last meeting with Hermione and refused to add money to the pile because he didn’t have Harry’s wealth. A better man would stop comparing himself to his friend, but old habits died hard. 

“Mr Weasley, that’s another reason why I came to visit, actually. After speaking with Hermione, I realized I wanted to do something more permanent for your family too. Could we take a walk?”

“Sure, Harry.” 

Ron admired his dad’s strength and nobility as they both walked past the gnome-infested garden. Ginny, however, harrumphed in her seat. “Why can’t they talk in front of us?” 

“Adult stuff, Gin.” His younger sister understood his jab, and to his surprise, did not fight back. 

“I don’t want Harry to think of us as a charity case, Ron. We’re his family. I get why he helped Hermione. He probably felt guilty for what she had to do to her parents. But we love him, we did everything for him out of love. He shouldn’t feel like he owes us.” Ginny was nothing, if not persistent.

“I reckon it’s not just guilt that made him help Hermione. She’s made it very clear she obliviated her parents to keep them safe, and to fight for a magical world where she was not persecuted. Harry knows that. He doesn’t have that big an ego to think it was about him.” Ron thought he’d gone over this with Ginny before. Although the success of the war depended on Harry’s Horcrux (which they promised to not share outside the trio) it did not revolve solely on his best friend. Their fight was to defend their way of life, to return to a society without Voldemort and live without his prejudice. 

“I know _that_. I was at Hogwarts protecting all the half-bloods! But Harry was, Harry _represents_ a good and peaceful magical Britain because he defeated Voldemort. He saved us.”

Ginny’s insistence reminded Ron of her infatuation with Harry as a younger girl where she saw Harry as _The Boy Who Lived._ Whenever Ginny talked about Harry’s sacrifice and future, Ron heard Hermione and understood why she was set in giving Harry a break from their world. Just like Ginny, the Wizardry World depended so much on a seventeen year-old. 

Ron returned to his conversation with his sister, in time for him to listen as she recalled her experiences at Hogwarts. They rarely discussed their time apart, mostly because he would have to admit that he abandoned Harry and Hermione in the middle of it, but also because his sister looked different. The fire in her eyes was different and he still did not know how to come to terms with that. There were so many changes happening at the Burrow; time sped up too fast for him. 

When the redheads ran out of things to say, Ron began to clean. With a wave of his wand and a couple of charms he’d heard his mum summon, the dishes levitated to the sink. Like all other nights, the small chore reminded him of how ungrateful he had once been to the woman who carried their whole house. 

“Gin, will you make sure mum’s eaten the plate I sent over, please?” 

“Yeah, yeah, I will.” 

“Stay with her, if she hasn’t.” 

“Got nothing else to do.” 

Ron swept away the dust, double-checked the cooler’s temperature, and even levitated some leftovers to the ghoul in the attic. The ghoul’s appetite almost mimicked his own. As he considered what else was left to do, Harry walked into the kitchen. 

“Where’s dad?” 

“He was called by the Ministry. He said he’ll send a patronus later to you all.”

Ron nodded and it 

“Listen, Ron. I talked to your dad, and he agreed to let me give him some of my money for your house. You know, fix what the D‘Eaters did last Summer, help with the gnomes. Honestly, it’s his money now, to do with however he chooses.” 

Ron realized it was one of the first times Harry and he talked openly about money where he did not feel shame. His friend was trying to show gratitude and literally share his wealth. 

“I want to do this,” Harry continued, “because I can and I’m of age now, so I can redistribute my wealth however I’d like. Frankly, it’s about time I spend it to help the people that have been taking care of me. My friends and family.” 

“We’re not charity,” Ron echoed his sister’s earlier argument.

“Of course you’re not charity. Didn’t you hear what I just said? You’re my family and my best mate, Ron. How can I not want to take care of my best friend? Hermione and I have been talking — she can talk your ear off on these things — she also agrees we could do this for Muggle-Borns, you know? They were persecuted so some of them lost their jobs while escaping Voldemort. We told the lot of them to leave the country, back at the Ministry; remember that? And I know I’m not solely responsible for what’s happened, but if I have the means, why can’t I help? She’s helped me find a way for me to feel useful again, and to put my money where my mouth is, as she says.” 

Harry hadn’t looked fired-up over a project since he tried to prove Malfoy was a Death Eater. It was different from his determination over the Horcrux Hunt. This look was of a man, ready to start something new, something good. Ron wanted to remember what it was like to fight for something. 

“What else have you two talked about?” 

Harry swallowed his surprise because he was immediately reminded of the new fire that settled at the end of his spine at the thought of their best friend. Hermione in their small library, curled with Crookshanks and a book. Hermione as she read and her lips moved across pages of information. Hermione’s hair and it bounced across his small kitchen.

Instead, Harry shared about his visits to the Ministry and their plans for the Summer. “At first, I was there to make appearances at the sentencing of some Death Eaters, which the press took advantage of, not that the Ministry complained when they began to print them in _The_ _Prophet_. I met Elphias Doge there, who sits on the Wizengamot. Remember him? He was at Bill and Fleur’s wedding last year and wrote Dumbledore’s Eulogy. 

“After meeting Doge, Hermione and I learned he had enough support from Wizengamot members to introduce new legislation under the New Ministry. Honestly, I think it’s because some of them are still ashamed they were imperiused. Hermione thinks they’re also ready to erase all of Minister Thicknesse’s orders since they were mandated by Voldemort, and that they’re willing to do most anything I asked to fall under my good graces.” 

Ron imagined Hermione was not so pleased with this reasoning. “So is that what Kingsley’s doing then? I read that some of Thicknesse's commissions are being rescinded.”

“Yes, exactly, we’re going to work off the Muggle-Born Registration Commission and present it for a vote. Doge has agreed to introduce a proposal Hermione’s written. This new bill would transfer the funds used to pay Snatchers and give it back to Muggle-Borns, a form of reparations. There are many families who were persecuted, forced into hiding or to flee abroad. There’s more to the bill and I’m not doing it justice with my explanation, but I helped find some of our classmates to share their own testimonies. 

“Percy was actually helpful in the draft — it was a bit weird to work with him, but he is pretty smart for these things. He helped Hermione write a clause making it possible for private funding to go into the commission. It’s Hermione’s way of making affluent Pure-Blood families contribute since they are so eager to show they support the New Ministry. And that’s also how I can distribute some of my wealth.”

Ron was amazed, “You’ve done all of this in two weeks?” 

“We didn’t mean to leave you out. Everything moved so quickly we got caught up in it. What do you think?” 

“A bit crazy, you two. But I think it’ll work alright. We’ve always lucked out when it comes to big plans.” 

Harry flushed with the traces of a memory, “Hermione reckons we can be better than before. This could be a good first step and I want to help.” 

Ron was caught off guard. He thought the end of the war meant things would go back to normal. Harry and Hermione, however, did not want the old normal. They had plans to create new things and he was already falling behind. 

Scared for old wounds to open up, Ron asked Harry about Aurors Training. They both agreed to start training in July. It gave them time to welcome Hermione from Australia and tie loose ends at home. Ron also wanted to spend more time with George, who needed extra hands with new inventory at WWW.

Ron also learned that Harry had promised Hermione to clean her old home and make it more habitable for when they returned. Bill was adding new wards for them. A group of Order Members had already cleared any traces of Dark Magic, left behind by the Death Eaters who’d gone after Hermione.

On the eve of a new world, both men turned to repair their new homes.

**AUGUST 1998 - HERMIONE**

It was an unusually big curly hair kind of day for Hermione, who patiently combed it down for the second time that morning. She and her parents planned a trip to London to complete all her school chores with a walk through London School of Economics. As a little girl, Hermione fancied herself attending a prestigious university to obtain a degree and help people. After the war, she realized her fight for justice was going to be how she would help.

In all her research, Hermione had not encountered a proper Mastery of Law in the wizardry world. So, she built a plan: Get a Muggle degree and practice in the magical realm. LSE offered the best Master of Laws programme and she was going to get in, even if it meant squeezing in a Bachelors between her N.E.W.T.S. studies.

It still felt odd for Hermione to think about Hogwarts without Harry and Ron. She almost reconsidered her options, with the excuse to spend more time with her parents, but they were supportive and encouraged her to finish at Hogwarts. They looked forward to her graduation. (Privately, Helen and Wendell worried over Hermione’s free time with all the studying for both her Bachelors and N.E.W.T.S.) Hermione thought she was lucky to have two parents who unconditionally loved her. Their love knew no bounds and it was made clear during their Melbourne reunion. 

_Monica Wilkins felt the immediate pull to the frail woman, whose brilliant brown eyes reminded her of Wendell’s own. For a brief moment, both Britons considered this woman to be Wendell’s relative from Nigeria. The young woman’s skin was auburn like Wendell’s, hair as curly and frizzy as Wendell’s when he let it grow. And her eyes were as determined as Wendell’s when his mind was set on a goal. But her mouth had all traces of Monica’s own, and that of her mother. Monica and Wendell could not place this person in their minds, even as their chests tightened with familial love._

_“We’ve met before,” Monica offered as a greeting to the young woman._

_Hermione’s puffy eyes pooled with fresh tears. “Yes, I’ve come from England to visit you.”_

_“I’m sorry, dear, I can’t remember your name,” Monica’s voice gave out, hurt by what sounded like the truth._

_“I know, and it’s all my fault, but I can help. I promise I can help remember me if you let me,” Hermione hiccuped through tears. She did not want to perform magic on her parents without their consent. Once for their safety was enough. “Will you let me help you remember? Please.”_

_Monica reached for Wendell’s hand without looking away from this not-stranger. Something in her heart told her to let this young woman do as she asked, but her logic kept fighting it. Wendell squeezed her hand and pulled her closer. It wasn’t a protective pull, for Wendell indicated_ yes _. For such a cool headed man, his faith drove him to trust his heart more than she would ever understand, and this ache was love, wasn’t it?_

_“Okay. Help us remember.”_

Hermione brushed away her tears and stared at her puffy eyes on the vanity mirror. This happened every time she remembered their reunion. Her parents were so trusting of their own hearts, she would have envied them if she wasn’t also a recipient of their love. A month back home had not been enough, but it helped them heal as a family. Hermione learned to never draw the line between her parents and her magic. They were not stupid; they had followed along the news of her world even when she tried to hide _Prophet_ clippings. Helen and Wendell Granger knew things turned sour in her Fifth Year, but in an attempt to be patient and understanding of their limits as Muggles, they let go of some responsibilities as parents. The Grangers regretted this above all. 

_“You should never have faced all of this by yourself, my love. There is nothing to forgive. We should ask for forgiveness; we failed you as parents when you believed we couldn’t be with you through this war.”_

_“You didn’t fail me. Even when we were apart, your strength kept me together. I fought a war so I would be with you again, and so that others like me could also protect their family. Regardless of magic, your love kept me safe.”_

Helen and Wendell built such strong values in the witch, that it carried her through the most fragile moments of the Horcrux Hunt, and kept her at Harry’s side.

“Heaven and Earth, Hermione, are you not ready? Your father wants to beat London traffic, we should hurry now,” Helen broke through Hermione’s thoughts from the doorway. 

“Oh, I’m sure daddy only wants to beat traffic only so _he_ could spend more time on campus. I think he is more excited about this than I am.”

“And would you deny him that pleasure?” Helen pulled Hermione’s curls back, and rested her palm on her shoulder. “He is looking forward to bragging about his brilliant daughter studying to be a Lawyer and protect people in Great Britain --”

“In the magical realm, mummy.”

“What’s the difference? They’re still Britons, aren’t they?” Helen fuzzed about but she was right. How foolish Hermione had once been to think her parents would not understand her magic, when time and time again, they showed her otherwise. Both giggled when they heard Wendell trotting down the stairs. 

“My daughter, a lawyer! Mommy Yvonne would have been so pleased. You’re the image of her dreams, Hermione. Now hurry along so we could properly capture the moment on Kodak. Say, can we get one of those moving-magical photos while we’re in Diagon Alley?”

“He’s going to be like this all day, isn’t he?” 

“Let’s get going before he starts on the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy,” Helen said. Both Grangers had been on the end of that rant too many times. Wendell believed the statues were long overdue for an upgrade in the new century. “We’ve got a long day and we shouldn’t make the Weasleys wait. It’s nice that they’ve offered to go into Diagon Alley with us.” 

A car ride and endless pictures of Hermione in front of school buildings later, the Grangers parked near the Leaky Cauldron. Despite all her preparations for what to expect, Wendell and Helen were visibly upset as they stepped into Diagon Alley. Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour’s main entrance was plastered with notices, names of the fallen and those still missing. The air felt heavy as packs of witches and wizards walked together, always looking over their shoulders. If it was as if folks were still not used to being out and about. Yet, smiles shared by strangers made the Grangers a little hopeful for the future of the magical folk. 

The family walked to their meeting spot at Gringotts to greet the Weasleys. Ron stood next to his parents in his Auror robes and waved hello. Another figure, similar to Charlie’s build and red hair to match, also welcomed them. 

“Harry, this wig is awful,” Hermione pulled back the tresses of Harry’s new hair. 

“Hey — I know, still rubbish at glamour charms.” The wind swept hair away from Harry’s face, and she wished all the glamour would never touch the depth of his green eyes. 

The group exchanged pleasantries and pats on the back as some hugged. Helen and Molly exchanged a fierce hug and whispered to one another. They held onto each other as they entered the infamous bank. Hermione overheard Mr Weasley asking about some of the latest Muggle artifacts he’d encountered at work and how he also missed Crookshanks’s presence at the Burrow. The Half-Kneazle had been a good gnome-guard at the Burrow during Hermione’s Horcrux Hunt. 

Hermione exchanged hugs with both her best friends. “Thanks for coming, we only expected your mum and dad, Ron. I thought I’d see you both at King’s Cross. Does this feel weird to either of you?”

“Almost,” Harry made a grab for her hand so they could also walk into the bank, but stopped when Ron made weird eye-signals towards Hermione. “Right. I’ll give you both some time. Don’t take long, you two.” 

“Thanks, mate.” 

“What’s that about?” Hermione looked after Harry and then at Ron. She didn’t want to spend any more time in the open, outside a very busy bank, and away from her parents. The open road kept her antsy. 

“I told Harry I wanted to have a moment alone,” Ron said and reached out for both her hands. Hermione could feel his little tremors as he reached the back of her neck and became envious of him how sure he was of his desires. He pulled her for a kiss. Hermione found herself counting the seconds as her neck began to strain, so after a few more pecks, she pulled back. 

“Can we walk in? I want to make sure they’re holding up okay. It’s their first magical interaction in so long.” Out of habit, Hermione searched her surroundings. Their display of affection had not caught attention, as far as she could tell. Ron caught on and tried to calm her nerves. 

“He is gone, Hermione. Harry and I are both training to catch the remaining Death Eaters out there,” he swung open the door to the bank and let her in first. “You’re safe from harm.” 

“You know it’s also regular folks I’m watching out for,” Hermione mumbled to herself, knowing Ron was tired of her arguments. 

In the three visits the trio had made into Magical London over the Summer, Ron and Hermione quarreled a total of five times about their safety and how wizards were still acting up towards muggleborns. Upon her return from Melbourne, Hermione confronted displays of snobbery towards mixed muggle-magical families, a sign of the backlash their little economic aid package bill made among wizardry folk. 

Over owl, Elphias Doge had written about the painfully slow process of their bill. Some Wizengamot members had refused to acknowledge the prepared testimonials. These members did not want the testimonials on Snatchers, kidnappings, and murders of Muggle-Borns to go on record. If they accepted all testimonials, the Ministry would have to admit their failure as government, and its control under the Dark Lord. These members didn’t want it to be recorded in the Wizengamot Ledger, according to Doge. 

Yet, Elphias convinced the conservative members of the Wizengamot to take on Luna Lovegood’s testimonial. The Quibbler’s reputation was still standing and the young witch was a witness to the atrocities under Death Eaters, from Dean Thomas’s torture to Ted Tonks’s murder at Malfoy Manor. During her testimony in front of the revived Wizengamot, Luna spoke of Dobby’s bravery, Griphook’s wit, and argued on the record that all magical beings deserve reparations, starting with Muggle-Borns. Luna’s testimony would one day serve as a guiding stature for rights for all magical beings. It cost the witch a two-year ban from Ministry property, but she had made her case and kept true to herself. 

Harry gave Hermione the news on a bright Friday morning after the vote. Their bill passed with 27 votes, 22 against and only one abstention. They held onto a margin of 5 votes, which according to Percy Weasley, was a modest win. 

“Harry, you could’ve waited until morning to call. Isn’t it two in the morning over there?” 

“I couldn’t wait to celebrate with you. You’ve done this, Hermione. You’ve made a huge impact and I don’t think you know it yet.” 

Hermione found she enjoyed hearing his compliments. “You’ve helped, Harry. I couldn’t have done it without you.” 

“Hermione, you could find a dozen other families willing to hand over their galleons to achieve this. The Wizardry World of Britain could not find another you,” Harry said over the phone and she imagined him sitting in the drawing room, where they had spent hours reading copies of old Wizengamot records in order to achieve this win. Together. 

“You believed that we could do this, and you put your name on it,” Hermione burrowed further into the covers and a pleasant warmth washed over her. She enjoyed a few extra minutes in bed, with Harry on the phone, before she met her parents for brunch. Helen and Wendell were busy at their clinic to transfer their patients over to other dentists and withdraw as volunteers from the small nonprofit in town.

Phone calls with Harry turned her morning routine in Melbourne into a lazy entanglement of bedsheets. Hermione first blamed the tropics of Australia, but quickly realized this new warmth had nothing to do with the weather and more to do with the voice of the wizard on the other end of the call.

“I would do it again if you asked me,” he half-whispered. Harry’s voice carried its depth through the hotel phone and settled at the pit of her belly, near her sex. 

_Oh._ Hermione wondered if life after the war introduced her to newfound pleasures. “Tell me more, Harry.”

“Fuck— sorry, sorry.” Harry’s grunt curled her toes with its vibration. “I - uh - stubbed my toe walking into my room. Lights are off.”

“Lumos, Harry.” She heard him move about on the other end of the phone, and thanked the old House for not rejecting the electromagnetic waves of Harry’s mobile so it could reach her core. Not for the first time, Hermione fought the urge to push her knickers down and complete her new morning routine while he stayed on the line. She breathed in deeply and listened to the logical part of her brain that convinced her to wait until the end of their call to masturbate. At least, while in Australia, both parts of her brain stopped denying this new sexual reaction to Harry’s voice. The least she could do abroad, was respect her friend and wait a bit longer. 

“Right. Er, I stayed for the vote until it passed right before midnight because the conservative lot at the Wizengamot tried to stop it until the very end. Kingsley was furious, but at least we made the deadline and all records were also submitted at Gringotts for the new Commission’s use. Then, I joined Percy and a few other clerks for a round of drinks at the Leaky. Did you know Percy loosens his tongue while drunk? No wonder he is so uptight half the time, he has to keep it all bottled in before he goes spilling people’s secrets. Biggest gossiper I’ve ever met.” 

Hermione laughed, “I guess he is more like Molly than he’d ever admit. Could be useful in the future, for Wizengamot purposes, of course.” 

“Ever the planner, our Hermione. Tell me, are you enjoying the beaches of Melbourne, at least? Are you relaxing as much as you can?” Harry began to tease.

“Does tanning on the beach with a book count as relaxing?” 

“Only if it’s _Hogwarts, A History_.” Harry chuckled as he confessed, “Would you believe me if I told you I started to read it?” 

“And what have you learned?”

“That I miss you.” Harry’s voice mimicked the lull of 3AM as half her brain short-circuited. She banged the receiver against her temple and counted to 3. Hermione reminded herself that Harry, _her friend_ , was half-asleep and likely less guarded over what he shared. 

She breathed in deeply, “I miss you, too.” 

They talked about the Weasleys and her parents, Kreacher’s ventures into Hermione’s home, and Crookshanks' endless fun with pixies and other creatures that still roamed Grimmauld Place. Then, Harry mumbled a goodbye. “My mobile is dying — I haven’t charged it in days. Can I call you again?” 

“You always call, Harry. Just sleep more, for me, alright?”

The next day, Harry’s grumpy voice woke her at 6AM. He apologized for the early call but he thought it best she heard from him about the _Evening Prophet_ , which she was bound to read that morning on her regular walk through Magical Melbourne. An aristocratic wizard claimed Ministry favoritism to non-magical ancestry. Mr Edward Elderwood gave an interview to _the_ _Prophet_ , with many hidden and not-so-hidden racial accusations. He nearly echoed old Ministry propaganda, who under Umbridge, claimed Muggle-Borns stole wizards’ magic. 

That’s how late June turned into her nightmare scenario. Some magical folk quickly dismissed Elderwood’s tirade, but others secretly agreed over this _preference_ by Kingsley’s Ministry. This all infuriated Hermione, since it was clear some magical folks had been complacent with their society before Voldemort, where purebloods still benefited the most. This was what she kept explaining to Ron, especially as her parents visited Diagon Alley. Outside the bank, she wasn’t scared of dark wizards because she could take them on a duel. She was terrified of people’s snide and their comments if they spotted muggles in Diagon Alley.

Hermione walked into the bank followed by Ron. She was tired of their rows. Hermione noticed Harry kept his distance from the couple and guessed he wanted to stay out of it. 

Her memories of Melbourne and their June legislative battle were ever so present, as were the phone calls she and Harry shared. All those interactions confused her endlessly, which caused the Golden Trio to spend little time together. There were still so many thoughts plaguing her mind about their world, the Wizengamot, and Harry. It wasn’t fair to Ron, who honestly _tried_ half the time, but whose own traditions as a pureblood wizard often clashed with her values. She knew it wasn’t his fault, but it was also not fair to her to have to explain how many traditions were _wrong_ in their magical society. 

“Alright, honey?” Wendell recognized frustration scrunched over his daughter’s temple.

“Yes, daddy. Did you make the exchange already?”

“Quick, as usual. I don’t think they want us to stay here longer than necessary.” Wendell guessed there was something related to Gringotts Bank that Hermione was yet to share. “Arthur also suggested we separate your shopping list. The quicker, the better. What do you think?” 

“Yes, let’s do that.” 

Hermione went off to Madam Malkin’s and Flourish & Blotts with Arthur and Helen while Wendell, Molly, and Ron took care of other supplies. Harry was detained by some goblins, who found an excuse to check his accounts. Hermione did not know the details of how Harry saved them from being penalized over their break-in. 

Helen and Wendell organized a meal after shopping at the Leaky to celebrate Hermione’s nineteenth birthday. The Grangers recognized the Weasley’s generosity and love towards their daughter for taking her as their own. In all the agony of having pushed her parents away, Hermione almost forgot how welcoming and supportive the Weasleys had been to her. When Molly conjured a delicious cake she’d baked, Hermione hugged Molly with all the strength she could muster. This woman pulled herself from the depression of losing her son, carried her family, and still managed to show up for Hermione. 

Hermione hoped to communicate all her gratitude. “Thank you so much, Mrs Weasley. This is truly wonderful. I love it.” 

“You’re welcome, dearie. Now, be good at Hogwarts and try not get into trouble. Who knows what awaits you now that they won’t pull you back from your studies.” It was clear to Hermione that Molly was unaware of Hermione’s influence on them. 

“Yeah, Hermione!” Shouted Ron. 

“Hear! Hear!” Harry made room on the table for the cake and conjured nineteen lit candles. 

Surrounded by her friends and family, Hermione made several wishes. To continue her studies, her fight for a just and equitable society in the magical world, and for her to be more patient. The Weasleys were not only the exception to the rule, they were made of stubborn genes and open hearts, and were willing to accept Hermione’s fight for justice. To fight alongside her.

Hermione was convinced her new life did not have to separate her magic from her Muggleness. 

**INTERLUDE AUGUST 31 1998 HARRY & HERMIONE**

Harry rang the Granger’s home the night before their meeting at King’s Cross. Hermione knew it was Harry because he was the only friend over her nineteen years who dared call back after suffering through interactions with her father. 

“Wendell here. Who is this? Oh, Harry, hello my boy… And what would you like to share with Hermione that cannot wait until tomorrow? Hmm. Hmm. I see, but that doesn’t —” 

“Daddy, I’ve got the second phone, thank you!” Hermione saved Harry from the first floor landing. 

“Enjoy the conversation you could’ve had tomorrow,” teased Wendell as he hung up.

“Are you not making it to King’s Cross anymore?” Hermione worried his plans had changed. 

“Teddy and I will be there bright and early,” he promised. “I wanted to say hello.” 

“At the risk of my father’s endless interrogation? ”

”I’m the Boy Who Lived, Hermione. I think I can survive a phone call,” Harry chuckled on the other line. “Are you all packed, do you need anything else from Diagon Alley? I could always owl you if you’ve forgotten something.” 

Hermione walked into her room with the wireless, and charmed her door with a muffliato. Harry teased her when she began to whisper. “You know, you don’t have to whisper if you’ve charmed your door, right?”

“Shush, you. I like to keep up some pretenses around my parents. Are you doing anything with Teddy tomorrow?” 

“Honestly, not likely. Andromeda is dropping him off at nine before her trip to the Ministry. Since they rolled back parts of the Werewolf Registry, Dumbledore’s inheritance to Remus can finally go to Teddy. There are a couple of books and some nick nacks Andromeda will pick up.” 

“How are you doing? I know co-parenting wasn’t on your to-do list this Summer.” She pictured him massaging his temple, a new habit he picked up since the war. “Oh, nevermind, we don’t have to -” 

“I want to, not sure how to start tho… It’s a weird new responsibility. Something I can say I honestly enjoy doing even if for now it’s nappies, burps, and scheduled feedings. It’s made me think of what it means to be his godfather, which usually makes me think of Sirius… and what he would have done if he’d taken me instead of the Dursleys. 

“I want to give Teddy what I didn’t have as a kid. What the Dursleys kept from me. So I started something.” Harry thought it was time to share with Hermione some of his bigger plans with Teddy. He’d been pondering on it for the last week. “I’m going to hand off my entire Black Family fortune to Andromeda and Teddy.”

“Oh, Harry! That’s so good of you. I think it’s the right call to make,” Hermione had spent time with Harry over the Summer advising him of some of the new finances he possessed. She had seen how troubled and overwhelmed he had felt at points, especially because he did not have much growing up with his aunt and uncle. 

“You think so?” Harry knew it was the right move to make. Both Andromeda and Teddy had more Black blood than him and if Remus and Tonks were alive, he would’ve done the same. Harry tried to give his new family a sense of economic security that Remus could not because of his magical status as a Werewolf. “I’m glad that you think it’s great, Hermione.”

Hermione rebelled in the little flares of passion Harry finally began to show. It was such a contrast to the man who voluntarily walked to Voldemort as his last act of resilience. This Harry had dreams and hopes. 

“Of course this is great, Harry. You’re planning a future with Teddy! Sirius did it for you; he would have been proud. I’m proud of you,” Hermione plopped on top of her soft duvet. 

“I hope so. Thank you, Hermione.”

“Tell me more, Harry,” she whispered over the phone and a vivid memory of a night after their Muggle-Born Commission win pushed themselves to the front of Harry’s mind. His pulse quickened, his throat dried out, and an image of Hermione on white hotel bed sheets fogged his vision. It was as suffocating as the dark version the Locket created of the two of them, but much sweeter because this version had Hermione’s voice. This version _was_ Hermione. Harry allowed himself another minute until Hermione’s voice pulled him back to reality. 

“I also started thinking about the kids Fenrir Greyback may have turned. Greyback and his followers were vicious; we know he prayed on young kids. The Registry is not the way to find out who they are, but it’s made me want to do something about it. What do you think?” 

“I think my first mistake with S.P.E.W. — and please, don’t laugh at me — was that I didn’t talk to the House Elves. I only had Dobby’s experience and took it as truth for the entire species. So, I think we should talk to werewolves, start with friends first, and figure out what it is they want. I could try to talk to Lavender when I get to Hogwarts.” 

“No, you have so much on your plate, and you’ll be studying for your Bachelor of Laws, too. Let me figure out some things at the Auror Office, see what they know. Then, we can work from there.”

Hermione smiled thinking that Harry was already including her in his plans. 

“I know I’ll see you tomorrow, but it won’t be like this. Our calls remind me of our time on the Horcrux Hunt,” without Ron, he didn’t say, “but it also feels different.”

“I know, we won’t have this at Hogwarts,” Hermione lamented. 

Their calls evolved into something Hermione couldn’t name. She knew whatever it was, it wasn’t fair to Ron and their shared kisses. But it also wasn’t fair to Hermione that Ron never talked. And it also wasn’t fair to Harry whenever he made her squirm under clean bedsheets without his knowledge. 

_Desire was a bitch, and so were hormones._

Harry and Hermione both stayed on the line for as long as they could, neither wanting to break a quiet intimacy built over the telephone. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Night.” 

~ * ~ 

_But you’re here, I’m there,_

_and we have only words, a nightly phone call - one chance_

_to mix feelings into syllables and pour into the receiver,_

_hope they don’t disassemble in that calculus of wire._

— Expert from _The First Straw_ by Jeffrey McDaniel

  
  


Author’s Note: I wanted to write a story that gave Hermione real purpose and growth in the Wizardry World. I wanted to write a story that showed us Harry’s smarts and interactions with his community, beyond Voldemort and Death Eaters. This story is intended to create a better society for Britain post War, one where they get away from the status quo JKRowling seems to like. If this is a magical society, why can we not aspire to make it better, fair, and just? I’m going to try to tackle some of those issues here.

We started with Ron, who still holds some traditionalist values, and ended with Hermione, a fighter and idealist at her core. The story will continue with other POVs but stick to Hermione and Harry as much as possible. Thus far, it is outlined at 5 chapters, with similar lengths per chapter.

As my personal fight for justice continues in the real world, I figured I could give our little duo tools of resistance to do the same. Any and all feedback is welcomed. 


	2. Chapter II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Hermione form deep bonds with an unlikely friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When it comes to Romance, I'm not sure if I want to go for slow burn or horny pining. I hope I did this justice. Thank you for waiting and giving it a shot.

**JANUARY 1999 - HARRY**

Harry Potter sported his clean, dark Auror robes for his meeting at Madam Puddifoot’s tea shop. A half-life ago, the very thought of it would have scared him off from any witch after Cho’s fiasco. To Harry, however, Lavender was not just any witch. They had grown past their awkward teenage years (and images of she and Ron sucking faces) to form a new friendship. Lavender had connections in the Werewolf Community and she was willing to help the research he and Hermione had started earlier in their school year. 

“Are you here in a professional or personal capacity, Harry?” Lavender scrunched up her face as he sat across from her. He’d gotten used to her many facial reactions to strong odors, but never one that resembled disgust. 

“Personal, of course. I’ve just got to stop by the Ministry after for a meeting with my Aurors unit after this,” Harry answered. 

“Then, would you mind if I asked you to put your Auror robes away?” 

Harry removed his robes without further inquiries. He’d noticed Lavender’s discomfort when he first joined her. He enchanted his robes into his back pocket and asked about Hermione.

“Oh! We chanced an owl this morning hoping it'd reach you, but it hasn’t. Hermione is serving detention. She and Malfoy were caught in the Library, after hours,” Lavender blew hot steam from her tea.

“Er, what now? I mean, doing what, exactly?” Harry never would have put that duo together. 

“Oh, Harry, don’t be silly, and get your mind off the gutter. They were working on a potions paper and lost track of time.” Lavender dunked a biscuit in her tea and chewed on. No werewolf attack could ever erase the dimples on both her cheeks. According to Hermione, Lavender’s dimples made their presence known when the witch acquired gossip — Lavender called it _intel gathering_. She insisted she was only ever after useful information, not gibberish from Fifth Years.

“Why was Hermione working with Malfoy?” Harry had nothing against the youngest Malfoy Heir. He testified in favor of a shorter probation period, after all. But it didn’t mean he _liked_ his old archenemy. Not that it should be an indicator of whom Hermione could work with, but her letters hadn’t mentioned him at all. Was this new, he wondered.

“Why were you smashing faces with a colleague last month? None of _our_ business, none of _your_ business,” Lavender’s dimples caved in further into her steaming tea.

Harry groaned and cussed _the Prophet_. His first and only escapade with Sylvia resulted in a sexual harassment training with People & Magical Management on Level 2 at the Ministry. That ship sailed along with his pride; Ron had been merciless about it, too. Harry ignored Lavender’s chide and saw a glimpse of what had once made her and Ron work so well in the past. Apart from the snogging, of course. 

“Who are we meeting?” Harry changed the subject, not wanting to take Lavender’s bait over Hermione and Draco. 

“I can’t give you their names, that is up to them to share when they get here. They think you have good intentions but want to know check themselves. The Ministry has been dragging their feet, to put it lightly, so you and Hermione are the only good leads so far when it comes to Werewolf rights. Honestly, it helped that your names were tied to the revised Muggle-Born Commission. That made them trust you a bit.”

In the six months since its implementation, the Muggle-Born Commission had seen hundreds of individuals return to Britain. The Ministry set off a strong campaign to reconstruct their image and called back mixed muggle-born families who had escaped Voldemort to return home. Despite the initial backlash by some fundamentalists, the commission was considered a success as it helped magical folk pay off debt acquired while on the run, build up their homes, and a Gringotts check to each individual in the household affected. 

Harry’s name naturally came up after an editorial piece published in the Quibbler called for more Pureblood Families to donate to the Commission, just as Harry Potter had done. While it had created a larger fund for the Commission, it had also brought Harry more attention than desired. The editorial also gave Hermione credit for the Commission’s new resolve and for being the brains of the original idea. To Harry’s surprise, Hermione had not shied away from that; he learned she liked to be tied to the Muggle-Born Commission because she finally felt she had done some good for people. She was most proud of the work, as she should have been. 

“How did you meet them?” Harry tried Lavender one more time.

“I have my ways,” Lavender smiled at him before sipping into her tea. He was in awe of her strong disposition to fight through her transformation every month, to arrange clandestine meetings, and become best friends with her ex’s ex-girlfriend. “Ooh, here they are. Over here!”

Two men in their thirties looked odd among a room full of starved-love teenagers. The taller of the two, Rich, was a handsome brunette with a sharp jaw and brown eyes. The other man, Mo, reminded him of Lupin. Mo wore a loose jacket that likely held his body together, and his low ponytail looked as if it kept trying to get away. 

Harry thanked them for meeting him and started his practiced speech. “My friend Hermione and I are looking for ways to help the Werewolf Community outside of Ministry jurisdiction. Unfortunately, the new Ministry has no appetite to take on werewolf reform this year but we don’t want it to deter us from finding ways to help. We know Greyback preyed on children, maybe that’s somewhere we could start?”

“Well, we can start with this Summer,” Rich exchanged a look with Mo before he continued. A shadow covered half of Rich’s face and his aura nearly engulfed Harry, and he saw a man haunted by terror in paralysis. “Did you know Aurors have been raiding our homes? They knock on our doors in the middle of the night, don’t identify themselves and rip the kids from their parents’ arms in the name of public safety.” 

Harry felt Rich’s coldness rub off on him.

Rich continued, “They’ve taken kids into questioning at the Ministry. Kids! As young as six. As if they knew what was happening to their bodies every month. One night they were regular wizards, another, they were werewolves.”

“Why is this not all over the papers? Was this under Voldemort’s regime?” Harry hoped that was the case, but even as he asked, he doubted it. His heart accelerated. 

Rich looked as if he would have happily shoved Harry off if it hadn't been for Mo’s swift response. “No, Harry. As Rich said, Aurors came in, under orders from the Department claiming they were out to protect the public. In fact, they were under strict guidance to grab anyone infected with lycanthropy, including children according to the aurors. Whoever was in charge knew exactly what Greyback had been up to and needed to have accounts of everyone.”

Harry dropped his gaze and wondered if Lavender had also been kidnapped. Lavender’s distaste over his robes was more than warranted. Harry could not bring himself to ask it out loud yet. “And you, Lavender?”

“I was lucky. I was with Pavarti and Padma.” Lavender took a big breath and continued, “There’s an 11 year old who was meant to arrive at Hogwarts in September. His parents pulled him last minute because they didn’t trust Hogwarts to be safe either. They’ve moved twice now.” 

She shared 3 other children’s stories, all younger than 11. She wrote to them often and shared her own experience at Hogwarts. Lavender visited the Shrieking Shack on full moons wishing those younger kids could have a better time than her. 

Mo shared the more gruesome experiences of the Pack, as they referred to their small group of 11 werewolves. Most adults had been picked up every full moon and taken to Ministry facilities to oversee their transformations. They were detained longer than their transformation periods and none were given Wolfsbane Potion to ease their transitions. Some, like Rich, had been placed under solitary confinement for speaking up about it. 

Harry recognized the same interrogation tactics from his lessons. His migraine drummed against his skill, his throat parched up, and his eyes lost focus. He tried to subdue his heart rate and tried to concentrate on his senses as he listened to the growing list of harm. _Three -_ he smelled the cinnamon biscuits, the heavy english breakfast from the table over, and his dragon-hide leather boots. _Two -_ he heard conversations on potions and another on herbology coursework. He saw _one_ owl fly over from the post office. With his heart rate returning to normal, Harry listened to Lavender’s recommendation.

“I think we should start helping those coming to Hogwarts and secure their safety and schooling. They should be able to study like Professor Lupin back in the day. Lycanthropy is not a deficiency and most certainly should not limit their magical abilities.”

“You’re right, I think we can start there. Do you suggest speaking to their parents if they have other requests? Think they’d agree to meet me?” Harry gathered Lavender knew the most about the kids and likely also owling the parents. 

“Not with you dressed like that. I noticed your boots, it’s no secret Harry Potter is training to be an Auror,” Rich pushed back. “You may not have been one of those Aurors breaking into our home, but you are now part of their team.” 

“What Rich means, Harry. It’s odd for you to try to help us when you’re building a career with the team that’s come after us.” Mo’s reasoning made Harry’s migraine throb through his temple.

_Cinnamon, English Breakfast, Rich’s leather._

_Potions and Herbology, now Transfiguration._

_A note passed between girls on the table over._

Mo continued, “... we’re thankful for your support, Harry. Lavender’s been a great advocate on your behalf. But you must hear our hesitation.”

Harry nodded quietly. He learned from personal experience that those needing help preferred to be heard than spoken to. 

“I can owl the parents and figure out what they need,” Lavender answered Harry’s earlier question. “We’ve also been exchanging letters since they want to know more about Hogwarts’ policy. All they remember is Professor Lupin back in Third Year, and that’s not very promising.”

“I can look into the Auror Office and figure out what is going on.” Mo was not convinced by Harry’s offer but nonetheless, agreed. Rich remained silent. Harry wished Hermione had not been caught in detention with Draco for the second time that evening. She definitely would have reassured Mo and Rich with a better plan, and maybe have answers for him about the aurors. Did she know what the Ministry was doing? “Do you mind if I share this with my friend?”

Both men nodded, and after some pleasantries left the café with a still troubled Harry. 

“Are you regretting this, Harry?” Lavender asked.

“Honestly, no. I’m only thinking about how to break this new promise to help the kids enter Hogwarts to Hermione.” 

“You’ve got a bit of an ego there, don’t ya?” Her tone was harmless but Harry heard the serious implications of his faux pas. “No offence, but this is not a prophecy with your name on it. This is a _Pack_ effort and despite Werewolf propaganda from the Ministry, we like to look after our cubs. You and Hermione don’t have to solve it all, when it comes to this, at least, I would like to believe I’ve proven myself as an important asset.” 

“You’re right. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise, Lavender. I’m sorry. I’ve learned a lot from Mo and Rich… it’s just got me thinking, that’s all. You’ve been tremendous, thank you again. Anything I can do to help, you know I will and so will Hermione.” 

While Harry wished to voice his concerns directly to Hermione, in the heat of the Gryffindor Common Room, he agreed it would be best for Lavender to give Hermione a readout of their evening. Lavender’s dimples paved their way to Hogwarts’ gates. 

Mo left him with a new set of questions about his chosen profession. Part of him wanted to dismiss their accusations, blame it on bad apples at the Ministry, perhaps uncaught D’Eaters. A flare at the pit of his stomach, much too similar to his monster-feelings as a sixteen year old, emerged with a taste of betrayal. Harry pulled his cloak back on, his body twisted at its center, and left a small pop where all his rage had been. 

~ * ~

For a few minutes after the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry felt freedom ring through his body. 

No prophecy, no villain, obligations, or certain death to hold his heart. Only his eyes, nose, mouth, and ears. His heart sprang up in euphoric beats. His knees tumbled onto the wet grass — and his lungs breathed in life. Moments later, the feeling left his soul to face the reality of the aftermath. 

From that moment on, Harry lived to feel a speck of it again. It haunted his nightmares and the same halls of 12 Grimmauld Place. The irony of living like his godfather was very clear to him. Harry had no one to blame but himself. Ron offered to move in with him, but Harry had wanted to figure out who he was without Voldemort. Harry wanted to run his own schedule and have whatever meals he fancied. Instead, he got weekly Mind Healer Eve Barone sessions and a fuck-load of migraines. 

After rushing through the light breakfast Kreacher prepared, Harry apparated outside Healer Barone’s small office tucked in the alley across St Mungo’s. Harry found Healer Barone after her brief stint as Auror Consultant and with Andromeda’s encouragement, Harry began his weekly Wednesday sessions. Since then, he noticed some progress.

According to Eve, as she preferred to be called, Harry finally came to terms with what he’d gone through as a teen. For years, Harry had denied taking care of himself because his aunt and uncle had forced him to not overreact, stay hidden, and never show pain — because they didn’t care for it. Harry had been just a boy when he watched his godfather die. After his rage and despair, feeling abandoned over the Summer by the people he cared most, Harry began to shut off. As a young man, he was forced to survive, and so his emotions were well hidden. Except for his brief infatuation with Ginny, Harry refused to acknowledge his pain and desires. Even then, he realized, he latched onto Ginny's love as an escape, and did not make her part of his life. Although he had just been a teen in love, he had not been fair to her and it wasn’t fair to him to latch onto a fantasy. It was still a hard pill to swallow and a tougher conversation to have with Ginny when he finally had the guts to stop running away and address their non-relationship last August. 

Harry avoided Ginny for most of that Summer. At first, he wallowed in his guilt over Fred, and so convinced himself that he was giving her space. Then, he started cleaning Grimmauld with Hermione and tended to his bond with Kreacher. Soon after that, he got wrapped up in Ministry visits for Shacklebolt, and Hermione’s trip to Australia. Then, there was the whole Muggle-Born Commission reallocation and its backlash. Auror Training in July and soon enough, Harry ran out of excuses to run from her. 

On a Sunday last August, after dinner with the Weasleys, Harry pulled Ginny aside and told her, in as many words as he could fill before a hex, his heart simply wasn’t in it. It was not timing, but his inability to love her as she deserved. He did not want to keep her holding on to hope that he could change. Harry naively asked her, “Can we be friends again?”

“Yes, you can start by _not_ showing up at my birthday dinner next week!” Ginny hexed him. To her defense, she had not lost control of her magic since her ninth birthday when Fred and George gift-wrapped a gnome. The hex had been spontaneous, and well deserved according to Harry. And that’s how, in his attempt to be a better friend and show her he was a rubbish boyfriend, Harry ended a romantic relationship. 

In the candle-lit office, Harry reflected on his growth since his breakup with Ginny. Since then, he learned to be more tactful and less reactionary. He thought he’d grown to restrain that in his meeting with Lavender, Rich, and Mo. A younger Harry would have lashed out at Mo’s criticism and likely stormed back into the Auror Office looking for answers, but now, Harry took his time to sit with the information presented, even when it made him uncomfortable. 

“That’s good, Harry,” Eve smiled at Harry and shifted in her seat to check over her quill notes, a sign Harry learned meant, more was to come. “May I also comment on something I’ve noticed? You’ve noted your growth, which is spectacular, but I sense you’re only sharing the superficial. You weren’t bothered with criticism, but you were bothered by something else. Can you talk about it?” 

Harry, unsure of how much he could share with Eve because she was a consultant with the Aurors, only said, “It’s about the Auror Office.”

“Ah… I would like to remind you, Harry, anything you say here is purely confidential. It won’t leave my office. My relationship with Head Auror Jones and any other staff is separate from this, and it won’t impact what you and I share,” Eve explained. “Even if this meeting was scheduled on the Office’s behalf, I am restricted from sharing details of our session.”

He’d heard it all before, but it always felt good to be reassured. “It’s just — it’s awful what they’ve done to those kids. Scared them half to death by breaking into their homes. Even the older werewolves — my friend Lavender included. They should not have experienced that at all. The Aurors shouldn’t have raided their homes to begin with.”

“No, they shouldn’t have.” 

“And it wasn’t even under Voldemort’s regime! Jones sent the order back in July. That was months into the Ministry cleanup under Shacklebolt. What were they trying to accomplish? How are they protecting all magical folk if they’ve got some kids scared? How is that different from what they were doing before -- under the Werewolf Registration Act, under the Muggle-Born Registration Commission? Is this what I sacrificed myself for, have all I’ve done is just make sure the government could continue to do its dirty work without a Dark Lord?”

Harry rubbed his chest as it tightened. His other hand rested on his left knee. Both his feet were grounded so he started an exercise he’d learned from Eve and tried searching for a happy memory to no avail. He couldn’t think of any happy smells or memories when kids had been kidnapped, when there were still people running scared of the Ministry. The ache in his chest rose to the roof of his mouth. He breathed in and exhaled twice over. “I’m just tired of not knowing everything. I feel used again, but this time by the Auror Office and not Dumbledore.”

“You were not part of the Werewolf raids, Harry,” Eve reminded him. 

“No, but I could have been since I’m training to be one of them. What difference does it make if I’m not raiding homes, but I’m still out on patrol probably scaring off kids without meaning to? Eve, my friend Lavender was frightened when she saw me in my robes. She’s known me for half my life but she was still scared of me. I’m done with that. I don’t want people to think I’m mad and dangerous.” _Like Voldemort._ Harry remembered how people had stayed away from him when they thought he was Salazar Slytherin’s heir. He thought things would be different after the war, but was slowly starting to realize .

“Did Lavender say anything else about you being an Auror?” 

“No, but she didn’t have to. She made it clear that our project would only be supported if the Pack was involved, so long as it was also on a personal capacity.” 

“Harry, do you still want to be an Auror?” Eve wrote across her pad. 

“Not sure. I think — well, I thought it made sense last year, you know? I always wanted to be one since Fifth Year, and it made sense when Voldemort was gone and I could finally start planning a life. Shacklebolt mentioned it, and Jones recruited me. I thought I was going to be catching Dark Wizards, but now, I’m not sure. This is mad, isn’t it? This is just a job.”

“No, Harry, it’s not mad. You’re going through a difficult thing, internal conflicts are always hard to figure out with a flick of the wand. You’re thinking about your life - and your future, I might add. You are a young man redefining his values after years of being pushed towards battle. I think this conflict was bound to happen.” Eve said it in the tone of voice that made him trust her and her process. She leaned towards Harry who sat on a sofa across from hers. 

Harry felt a little hopeful. “This is good?”

“I think it’ll be good in the long run, yes. It doesn’t have to feel good right now. I think you’re asking some good questions, don’t you?” 

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I am. It’s like you’ve said before, I’m noticing who is on my side for being Harry and who is with me for being _Harry Potter._ And I’m Harry when working on the Lycanthropy project. But Lavender and friends saw me as _Harry Potter_ because I was in my Auror uniform..”

“I think we’ve made a breakthrough.”

Harry left Eve’s office with a new spring to his walk. He was still in conflict, and there were more questions than answers, but his body relaxed with every step he took. Harry was going to work it out and still fight for what he believed was his next battle: To defend Werewolves. He’d made a promise to Lavender to start with the kids. 

And he promised Hermione to fight alongside her for all magical races.

Beyond that, he’d also made a promise to himself, to feel free. And it was going to start with figuring out what the hell those Aurors were up to. 

**MARCH 1999 - HERMIONE**

Hermione folded the note a Third Year Ravenclaw had handed over to her from Headmistress McGonagall. There was an update on her Muggle Law School programme and someone waiting for Hermione in the Office. Thanks to thorough planning on her part, and immense access to McGonagall’s British network, Hermione began her Eighth Year ready to test for both N.E.W.T.S and Muggle LLBs. The Headmistress also set up a private programme, according to Muggle documents, where Hermione was currently taking for an advanced Bachelors of Law degree. Nothing stood in the way of the Headmistress helping one of her brightest students achieve their dream. 

However, this little plot had come at the expense of Hermione’s much desired Head Girl badge. But there were bigger fish to fry and Hermione wanted to accomplish her new dream for a more just magical society. The backlash the Muggle-Born commission brought was a slap to the face. Edward Elderwood and his supporters made it clear that Purebloods were still the preferred class. Her failed advocacy for S.P.E.W. suddenly made more sense. Hermione had to change tactics and acknowledge her own persecution _by law_ and fight for full Muggle-Born rights before shifting Wizard’s minds about House Elves, Werewolves, Goblins, and more!

Heremione walked up the stairs after giving the Gargoyle’s the password ( _Motherwell_ \- the Headmistress was as fan of futbol as she was of quidditch). Headmistress McGonagall sat alongside her friend, a round faced Black witch with braids pulled into a bun. They conversed quietly around a finely decorated table set, with plenty of shortbread and sweet milk scones. At the center, Hermione spotted her favorite black currant jam among other berries jams. 

“Welcome, Miss Granger. Late tea?” McGonagall fashioned her office to resemble a welcoming environment for her students by having tea available on the small dinner table or comfortable cushions. Long gone was the center office desk that divided the students from their guardian at Hogwarts. Deputy Headmistress looked up to Headmaster Dumbledore, but Headmistress McGonagall learned from his mistakes. After the Battle, students at Hogwarts needed someone to listen, to guide them, and an intimidating desk wasn’t going to achieve that. “Robyn, this is Miss Hermione Granger. Miss Granger, this is my dear friend and Wizengamot Member Robyn Wood.”

“Pleasure to meet you Ms Wood. I’ve followed some of your recent work and I personally would like to thank you for your support of the Muggle-Born Commission.” Hermione had heard from Harry, who was informed by Percy, of the witch’s savvy to acquire 3 remaining votes for their proposal last Summer. Those votes helped them achieve a modest margin of success, according to Percy. 

“No need to thank me at all, Ms Granger. It is my duty as a representative of all Magical kin, including Muggle-Born.” Robyn’s eyes wrinkled together when she smiled. 

“Still, thank you, ma’am.”

“Please help yourself to shortbread, Hermione. Robyn and I were discussing our old years at Hogwarts and what we would’ve liked for our students. Now with reconstruction…” 

“Oh, Minnie, don’t talk as if it’s too late! There’s more work to do and a real chance to reconstruct the Castle’s body and soul,” Ms Wood playfully scolded the Headmistress. And although younger than her, Robyn Wood possessed a kind of wisdom that truly captivated Minerva, even decades after her abrupt departure from Hogwarts. “What do you think, Ms Granger, what would you like to see Hogwarts achieve?”

“Oh!” Hermione knew it wasn’t a test, but her mind switched gears. “I would bring back Muggle Studies, as part of the regular curriculum for upperclassmen. We have more study blocks and flexibility with our time as Sixth and Seventh Years. It would also be a good opportunity for every student to understand the politics and culture of Muggle Britain. The coursework would need to be updated.” 

“The same class for Muggle-Born students, too?” Ms Wood inquired. 

“I don’t see why not. When we arrive at Hogwarts, we lose our Muggle schooling. We’re also in need of the class as we prepare ourselves to a life after Hogwarts. Many of us live in the shadows of both cultures; we could do better to prepare all students.” Hermione had previously thought of it, in passing, but this was an opportunity to brainstorm. “This would also benefit students from Pureblood and Half-Blood families because they could learn about Muggle life, and get rid of some stereotypes. It may also help adjust and welcome Squibs in their families. A Muggle Studies class can have a positive impact on our values.” 

Hermione blushed over their attentiveness. She sipped her tea and wondered if she shared _too_ much.

“Possibly, our Magical society,” Ms Wood mused. “Would you consider Muggle Studies as a career, Ms Granger?” 

“I think years of tutoring Harry and Ron proves I would be a poor educator. I’m sorry to admit I don’t have the patience.” Robyn grew more excited after hearing Hermione’s response. She asked Hermione if she knew about the Hogwarts Board of Governors. “ _Hogwarts, A History_ has a brief passage on how they’re formed. It never shared any names of the Board members.”

“Bathilda was asked to omit the names in fear of retaliation. We were going through some drastic political changes in the 1970s,” Ms Wood smirked. 

McGonagall hid a snort behind a cough. Hermione wondered the kind of stories and experiences these two women kept secret. _Hogwarts, A History_ also mentioned Robyn Wood and her immediate dismissal as Professor in the ‘70s. 

Ms Wood continued, “The Board of Governors has recovered from the Dark Lord’s Imperius Curse. Many of them remain a bit shaken from the ordeal and will be retiring at the end of the school year. I would like you to consider applying to one of the posts, Ms Granger.” 

“How? I mean, why me, ma’am?”

“I believe you have some ideas storming in that mind of yours,” Ms Wood simply replied. “And Minnie is never wrong.

“The Board has twelve seats,” Ms Wood continued. “Three of them are appointed by the Minister for Magic; I was appointed by Minister Shacklebolt when he took office. He also sits on the board. Parents of current Hogwarts students may also apply; they take five seats. Another seat is given to a Hogsmeade resident since they’re outside school grounds. There are two seats for alumni and one for the most recently retired Headmaster or Deputy Headmaster of the school. There are currently no living retired Headmasters or Headmistresses, therefore the seat will remain vacant.” 

Hermione’s curiosity started to organize tables worth of ideas she could propose to the Board of Governors, if she were to apply. Her brain rattled with proposals and time tables. She’d almost forgotten about her Muggle plans. “I will be working on my Masters of Law this Fall, won’t it be a problem?” 

“Minerva tells me you’ve got an extraordinary talent for managing your time. Thankfully, the Board only meets every two months in person, and manages its work over owls. There have been emergencies, in the past, that call for last minute appointments. I don’t foresee many of those coming up.”

Hermione recalled two of these emergency meetings had been at Lucius Malfoy’s request. Perhaps, the Board now stood for greater changes if it was openly recruiting Muggle-Borns. Ms Wood conjured a parchment from thin air and handed it to Hermione. It was an application for an Alumni Seat at the Board. “How are alumni chosen to be part of the Board, if other seats are appointed or voted by non board members?” 

“Current members examine the applications and vote. You’ll see the application requires a brief statement of intent and a CV.”

Hermione nodded along. “Thank you. Honestly, I’m flattered. I will think about it, if that’s okay.” 

“You’ve got time to research, should this be of interest. The deadline is July 1, feel free to owl me if you’ve got any more questions. Now, Minnie, I’ll be off. Ms Granger, a pleasure,” Ms Wood gave an eccentric bow to Headmistress McGonagall in jest and quietly shut the office door. 

“Don’t mind her quick dash. Robyn has always been very straightforward,” the Headmistress sheepishly smiled. “She’s a woman with a mission and now that you’re in her radar, you’ll see more of her. For what it’s worth, and if I may be obliged to have a selfish thought, I do believe this would be a great opportunity for the school if you joined the Board. Your heart is in the right place.” 

“Thank you, Headmistress.”

“I do have an update for your Law Exams. Incidentally, the Board identified two professors at Cambridge who may write recommendation letters on your behalf. They’re both Squibs and have been filled in on your special circumstance; they’re happy to help you and speed along the process for a Bachelor of Laws. However, they were disappointed you didn’t apply to Cambridge, but were already set on LSE.”

“I shall write them letters with my sincere gratitude and an apology for not attending Cambridge,” Hermione replied. “I am also immensely thankful for your continuous support, Headmistress. Last Summer all of this felt out of reach, an impossible dream and yet, here we are.”

“I imagine we conquered the impossible in your Third Year.” 

Hermione felt right on track.

~ * ~ 

_Hermione,_

_How are you? Sorry for being a prat and not writing earlier. I enjoyed your birthday present and will make good use of the boots. Was it Harry who told you I tripped on our last field mission? Anyway, the stick-me charm will help loads._

_Thank you!_

_Ron_

_P.S. We’re good, right? Harry keeps bugging me about how we both are doing after the breakup and I had to remind him it’s been 4 months already! Would you mind also owling him? Cheers._

~ * ~

_Dear Ron,_

_Harry knows I am well. He was here last weekend during a Hogsmeade trip. I’m not sure why he keeps bothering you._

_I’m glad you enjoyed your present. And yes, Harry told me about the mishap. Just make sure your shoelaces are always tied, will you?_

_Give my love to your mum and dad,_

_Hermione._

~ * ~ 

_Dear Hermione,_

_Would it be too forward to request a floo-call at 11 o’clock tomorrow evening? I’ve got some news on our little side project that I can’t write about. Actually, I could write a 3 ft long parchment, but I would prefer to see you. Write back in the morning, don’t run to the Owlery late at night._

_Lavender should also join._

_Love,_

_H_

_P.S. I met Robyn Wood a couple of days ago. She could not stop gushing over you. I am not even a little surprised._

At a quarter to eleven, Lavender joined Hermione, who sat on her favorite armchair, near the fireplace. Time and shared experiences brought the two closer during their Eight Year. They also shared the weird bond of having dated Ronald Weasley. There was nothing like the power of failed love affairs to bring people together.

“How’s your third revision of your essay going?” Lavender stretched and made a grab for Hermione’s quilt, who quickly learned her friend’s body heat now ran on the (even) colder side given her new physical change. 

“Har-Har, it’s just the second round and I’m almost done. Then, I’ve got to revise my timetable -- I’m terrified of missing an LLB deadline when everything is so close to working out.” 

_Deadlines,_ Lavender thought, had been Hermione’s Boggart. “It’ll work out. You’re really on top of it.” 

“I hope so... Are you all done, do you need any help?” 

“Hey now, I’m no Ron. I’ve finished everything due tomorrow, _thank_ _you_.” 

“You could start on our Charms essay,” tried Hermione. 

“I need my beauty sleep. I’d say the same for you but so far you have survived 6 years of school with little sleep already, so keep doing whatever you’re doing. What _are_ you doing?” Lavender suspected Hermione had more secrets than Harry ever could, and could probably get away with more. 

“Honestly?” Hermione looked around the common room, making sure no one was around. “I take 15 minute power naps in the Library and always read a romance book before bed. Keeps me young.”

“Get out! And Padma had a theory you had a Time Turner,” giggled Lavender.

Hermione laughed it off, right as Harry’s head popped in the fireplace at exactly 11 o’clock. He grinned at Hermione, “Hello, you. Anyone else around?” 

“Hello, you.”

“Nope, just us. What do you have for us?” Lavender brought her two friends back from whatever weird eye-conversation was starting. Her patience ran thin when it came to their Lycanthropy project, and she didn’t fancy getting stuck in a round of those. 

“Hi Lavender -- Right. First, I’ve figured out how to erase our friends’ addresses from the Aurors data book. The problem is, while I can erase it from the Auror Office, I can’t erase the original copy. The original comes from the Wizengamot’s ledger. When the pack’s homes were raided, all information fell under the Werewolf Registration Act. Which brings me to my second point. We’ve got to pass legislation through the Wizengamot for this to truly work.”

“That’s impossible to do in the next year,” Lavender already looked defeated. 

“Well, yes, but there are other ways we can secure protections for you and the pack,” Harry motioned for Hermione to pick up from there. 

“Harry and I were talking last week… Originally, we thought we’d be able to work on this outside Ministry jurisdiction, and work our way to rescinding the Werewolf Registration Act. But from what we’ve gathered, we don’t think legislation can pass any time soon. The Commission -- which only reallocated resources and used private grants, mind you -- faced a bigger backlash than we anticipated. Elderwood still has power over his conservative coalition and we don’t want to trigger them to further harm Werewolves.”

Lavender didn’t like where this was heading. Nearly a year as a werewolf taught her that her species were often left behind. She refused to let 11 year old Franklin lose hope of attending Hogwarts next Fall. 

“Harry just about confirmed that we can take some measures of protection at the Aurors Office, but we would need proper Wizengamot Law to really keep you safe and that means changing our original timeline of a year to more than that…” Hermione disappointed Lavender with their new timeline.

Lavender sighed, there was no use in quarreling over timelines, it made sense, even if she didn’t like it. “What do you propose we do then?”

“We need to be smart and can start by gathering more intel. Do we even know all members of the Wizengamot and those more likely to support us? There are voting records stored at the Ministry worth revising. Harry thinks we could have Minister Shacklebolt’s support, because of his history as Auror, and comments he’d made about Lupin’s status back in the day. But we should still confirm his position. And as much as it pains me to admit it, we should check the _Prophet_ archive.” Hermione was in full planning mode.

“A real campaign,” echoed Harry from the fireplace. 

“Precisely. We can build a real campaign to change public discourse on werewolves. We know people are scared of werewolves, Greyback made sure to build his power off that fear, so we need to start there. Give people the facts and build a strong coalition, so by the time it reaches the Wizengamot floor they won’t have a choice but to vote on it or face public outrage.” Hermione did not tell Lavender that for it to really work, they were going to share some of their stories. The Pack wasn’t ready for that, and she wasn’t going to push it tonight, or anytime soon. 

Lavender was comforted by Hermione’s initial planning. They could start with small steps, but enough to protect the children from further trauma at the hands of Aurors. “Harry, how sure are you about wiping the addresses from the Auror Office?” 

“I can do it in three days. Fridays are most lax on security, and Ron will be there. I haven’t shared anything with him because I wanted to first check with you.” Throughout their work to defend the Pack, Harry and Hermione asked for Lavender’s critical input before any big step. It was a big lesson they learned from Hermione’s advocacy for S.P.E.W., no social justice fight could succeed without those directly impacted at the planning table. 

“Great, and yes, you can tell Ron if it helps pull this off. The quicker, the better; be careful,” urged Lavender. 

“This is important for us, Lavender. I hope Hermione and I have shown you that. We won’t stop until we see it through. Ron and I will get this done.” Harry looked a little thrilled to run a secret operation with his best friend . 

“I don’t just mean that, Harry. You’ll be doing something _technically_ illegal,” whispered Lavender. “You’re an Auror and this puts you in an uncomfortable position.” 

Hermione realized then, for as much as they shared the progress of their work with Lavender, they had not disclosed Harry’s dilemma with the Auror Office he was supposed to serve. Harry looked uncomfortable and changed the subject, “There’s something else.”. 

“What is it?” 

“We know Voldemort’s Ministry took wands from Muggle-Borns on the pretext some wizards were stealing magic. The Muggle-Born Registration Commission technically doesn’t rescind the practice set by the original commission. There’s an assumption that folks will purchase a wand without any challenges. Hermione, remember how Griphook told us wand law is vague at best? We could use this as an opportunity to legally allow _all_ magical folk to have access to a wand.”

“And change it so that all magical races have access to a wand. This means we can not only make sure werewolves have a right to use magic, but to _practice_ magic. Harry, brilliant!” Hermione was bouncing on her seat. 

“Catch me up, please. What does that mean?” 

“It means,” explained Hermione, “We are building a case for all magical folk who have lycanthropy to receive an education at Hogwarts. We not only will be able to welcome Franklin next year, but the school will be legally obligated to provide _housing_ for all starting students. Lavender, we can make sure all future children have better options than the Shrieking Shack. It also means, during their time at Hogwarts, they are magically protected by the School.” 

“And we can buy them more time from the Ministry raids…” completed Lavender. 

“Precisely,” beamed Hermione. “It’s only a small step that can buy us time, but it’s something. And -- oh, Harry - Harry! This can open so many arguments for the treatment of magical races under wizardry law. If we can increase access to a wand, we can create the argument that it is also _a right_ and start shifting wizard and witches thinking of how we treat elves and goblins.” 

“It’s a start,” Harry smiled back at Hermione. He hadn’t thought that far, but knew his idea could bring in additional protections for the incoming werewolf magical students. 

“Is it just me or can we actually pull this off?” Lavender became hopeful again. “Look at you two, building magical law over a fireside chat. Imagine what we could achieve when our Hermione gains her Master’s of Law!” 

Hermione was both pleased and terrified with her friend’s wholehearted trust. “I promise I won’t stop fighting, Lavender.” 

“I know you won’t. I’m glad I can be here for this, but! I’m really knackered. Don’t stay up too late, kids!” 

Lavender waved goodbye.

“She took it better than I expected,” Harry’s face grew impossibly closer to her. 

“I think she knew we’d get here, at some point” Hermione sat in front of the fireplace to be at eye level with Harry. “She’s been worried over Franklin. He wants to come to Hogwarts in the Fall, and the castle is not prepared for him or any of the other kids when they reach Hogwarts age. The Shrieking Shack is no place for a child to experience their transformation. I hate Lavender’s vacant eyes when she returns from the Shack. I hope we can figure out the wand business before the Fall to prepare for him.”

“I know. I think about Remus and the stories he and Sirius shared. It’s kind of depressing, if you think about it… Kids had to learn advanced transfiguration skills to keep their friend company because the adults thought it smart to just let him fight demons by himself.” Harry did not want Franklin or any of the other children to experience what his friend lived through. All the pain and trauma his body bore caught up with him in the end. He didn’t even reach forty. 

“Before tonight, I was thinking about alternatives we could create in the meantime.” Hermione scrunched her temple and bit her bottom lip, a tell of how determined she was going to get. “Harry, when I met Ms Wood a couple of weeks ago, she told me about the Hogwarts Board of Governors. She wants me to apply for it now that an alumni will retire soon.” 

“That’s brilliant, Hermione!”

“To tell you the truth, I was hesitant at first, you know how easily swayed the Board was when Lucius Malfoy Chaired it back in the day..” Hermione shared other doubts she had about the Board, and the pro/con chart she started on the night of Ms Wood’s visit. She also told him about how pleased Ms Wood became when Hermione shared her ideas for a mandatory Muggle Studies class. “If we don’t move on wand-legislation before the Fall, I think I can make an argument with the Board to set things right for Franklin. We can find a safe space for him during the full moon, a healer to tend to him. 

“I have been debating it for days, but I think I always knew I would do it, when she asked. I told Lavender and she also thinks I should do it.”

Harry soaked her in: The small rise and fall of her chest after a monologue, the way her hair frizzled out with her magic and her passion. He wasn’t even surprised that Hermione had designed a plan for Franklin, even before his update because she would always find a way to help someone in need. He realized his years of admiration turned into adoration -- _Harry adored this version of Hermione._ Of all her passions and fights, this was his favorite because it was the most telling of her true desires as a witch fighting for justice for all magical races. 

Very quickly, Harry realized, his mind wandered into what other passions Hermione possessed that he had not yet encountered. Harry spoke up before his body shifted into familiar _reactions_. “If anyone could, it would be you. There’s no stopping you when you set your mind on something, and you’re persuasive as heck.” 

Hermione grinned, “You’d know.”

“Have you submitted the Board application, then?”

“Not yet. I’m going to owl it next week along with a letter to Ms Wood. Since I’ve got time, I’ll focus on revisions for my LLBs. Muggle Universities take Easter Break very seriously, in that they don’t give a proper break, so I can work on my Masters entrance application. I may need to go to London and deliver them myself.” 

Harry knew an opportunity when he saw one. “Tell me when and I’ll come with. I can take off.” 

Hermione agreed and asked him about Auror Training. Harry was in a debacle. While he attended every training session and class, he was still unsure of the methods the Aurors took when confronting dark wizards, and he’d not forgotten the raids. The month before, Harry argued with his trainer for pushing to “ _act first, ask questions later”_ on a field dry-run; even after Harry offered how some defensive spells could’ve been implemented.

“It’s not like Kingsley can do anything about it. I’m not trying to pull weight or anything, I promise,” he defended. “Kingsley relies on Head Auror Jones to do his job. Problem is, he runs the Auror Office, as he did decades ago.”

“With fear the next Dark Lord will rise,” Hermione concluded. “And not in protection of the public.”.

“I think I’m near my breaking point, Hermione. One more ‘show of discipline’ and I’ll lose it.” Harry was not very fond of some of the interrogation tactics his peers implemented with Death Eaters. Neither was Hermione. They both experienced torture to not wish any resemblence of it on their worst enemy.

“Harry, you don’t have to stay there.” Hermione suspected Harry wanted an out, but was not ready to do it. Whatever his choice, it was going to be his, at the end. The least she could do was help him get there. 

“I know,” his voice carried the hours of work for Auror Training and Lycanthropy he pulled that day. “But there are more D’Eaters to catch and I made it my goal when I fought Voldemort, that I would stop them.”

“I just want you to know, it’s okay to change tactics, so long as you’re happy in the end. You also don’t have to make a decision soon,” Hermione thought Harry’s anger vibrated off his body on his last Hogsmeade visit, where he’d also complained about the Aurors programme.

“Either way, it helps that I’m there now so I can delete the addresses,” he winced and his head bobbed in and out of focus.

“You should rest, Harry. It’s past midnight; your knees must be aching. This update wasn’t three feet’s worth of parchment either,” she teased.

“Yeah… I may have overestimated that. I still wanted to see you and say hello, so it works,” he yawned.

Hermione felt her chest warm up and it wasn’t because of her proximity to the fire. She was getting used to a more outspoken and honest Harry. Months of therapy started to help him express himself and she found she liked being on the receiving end of his compliments. 

“While I am happy to see you, I’d rest better knowing your knees won’t bother you all day tomorrow while on patrol.”

“Alright, then. Owl me the date for when we should visit LSE together. I do mean it, I’d like to go with you.”

“And you, when Friday goes well. Promise you’ll be safe.”

“I promise.” 

Days later, a brown owl dropped off a letter during breakfast at the Great Hall. It simply read, _Mischief Managed._

_INTERLUDE APRIL 1999 - HARRY AND HERMIONE_

Harry and Hermione met at a small café outside St Peter’s Church on the second day of Easter break. They both agreed a walk to school grounds would be more pleasant than apparating in an alley. But when Hermione was pushed against Harry for the third time that morning, she wished she’d chosen a cafe far away from church-goers. On Holy Week. 

“Sorry, Harry.” . 

“Don’t worry,” Harry’s hand squeezed her left shoulder as he stepped behind her to make room on the queue. His hand moved down her arm and hovered next to her, unsure of where to rest. “What are you getting?”

Hermione controlled her jump, but not the electric current that moved from her left ear to the curls at the nape of her neck. She looked back to answer and found his green eyes fixed on hers. “Coffee and maybe a scone. I’ll regret it later if I don’t. You?”

“I’ll probably do the same but with sugar and milk. You know, I’ve never seen you add sweeteners onto your coffee.” Harry’s hand rested against her back when the line moved. 

“That’s because I don’t grow up to be the daughter of two dentists without weird sugar habits. I only add sugar on weekend breakfasts, which you rarely woke up early enough for,” Hermione teased. She knew she rambled because she didn’t know what to do about that hand, or his whole body when they drew closer to the cashier. 

Hermione blushed when the barista insinuated their _togetherness_ and dashed from his grasp when she paid before Harry could complain. When their orders were called, they chose to leave the cafe with their breakfasts in hand. 

“You look cute with your muggle backpack,” Harry lifted it for emphasis. “Like a proper unigrad.”

“Well, what about you? Have you ever thought about Muggle University? You look like one, too.” An old memory of walks around the Black Lake was replaced with a similar walk like this, to a Muggle school building. Together. 

“Er - not really? There was that time, as a kid with the Dursleys. I dreamt of going to a school far away from them, and weirdly enough I got into Hogwarts. But I haven’t thought of Muggle school, no. What would I do there?” Harry was getting used to making plans in life that lasted longer than a year and he liked it.

“Lots of things, Harry, whatever you wanted. And maybe not now. Never say never.” 

“Maybe if the Auror programme doesn’t work out, I’ll look into it.” He took their scone wrappers and tossed them in the bin. 

The wind picked up as they approached the waterfront. Harry pulled Hermione closer to him and let his arm hang off her shoulder. They were no strangers to each other’s touch; they had shared heat under blankets on the coldest of nights while on the run. And still Hermione stifled a gasp. Harry’s hand gripped her tighter as he led them through the crosswalk. All signs of a romantic embrace, Hermione mused. 

“How was Teddy’s birthday? I can’t believe he is one!” A safer topic would keep any thoughts of _togetherness_ away, thought Hermione. 

Harry swelled with love at the mention of his godson. “It was wonderful; just Andy, Teddy and I for the most part. Molly and Arthur stopped by with Bill and Fleur. They brought him a miniature dragon set which included Fleur’s Common Welsh Green and the Hungarian Horntail. And no, they’re nothing like the Triwizard’s miniature dragons; they’re made of plastic, surprisingly.”

Hermione beamed at Harry, amused he had anticipated her question. 

“I baked a carrot cake for Teddy because Andy is having trouble with his veggies lately. Not sure I helped since I covered them in sugary bits.”

“Harry!”

“Joking! I cut down on the sugar just for you. We had dinner with the Weasleys, sang to him by 6, and at 8 he was passed out in bed. Andy and I spent the evening talking about Remus and Tonks. It was… nice, even when it hurt a little. I’m glad to have them with me.”

“They’re your family, Harry,” Hermione moved her right arm behind his waste and half hugged him to make a point. It made for an awkward movement as the pair continued to walk, but she didn't mind. “I’m glad they make you happy.” 

Harry treasured Hermione’s words more than she would ever know. “How are your parents? Excited to have you in London?” 

“Happy now that I’ve agreed to join them on their trip. I made them promise we would go somewhere for two days, one night tops -- and absolutely no camping,” Hermione shivered at the thought. 

“You and me both. Where ya going?” 

“It’s a surprise.” Hermione giggled, “Honestly, I’m just letting them do what they’d like, before -- ” 

“Before what?” Harry pulled them to a stop as they entered campus. They sat on a bench outside the Admissions Office to continue their conversation. 

“This has just happened and I wanted to tell you tomorrow when we see Ron, so promise to act surprised. Ms Wood offered me a Summer post at her office as junior policy clerk.” 

“Woah -- that’s brilliant, Hermione! Congratulations; you’ll do great things,” Harry gave Hermione an extra hug for reassurance. 

“You think so? It’s only a Summer job, but I figured I could learn some things to help our case, you know?” She was referring to their Lycanthropy project that hit a brief wall after Harry’s successful data operation. “It’ll also help with savings for the small flat I want to rent.”

“You’re moving?” 

“Not until September. And at least, not until I know for sure I’ll attend LSE. I figured, if I’m going to a muggle school, I should also live closer and travel like one.”

“Why don’t you move in with me? I’m close enough.” Harry thought it made sense, he had the space, Hermione didn’t have to pay rent if she lived with him, and they’d already lived together. There were no weird habits that could keep him from the witch. Kreacher was also near Dobby-level of politeness around Hermione.

“Oh, no, Harry. I couldn’t possibly. Thank you, but, I really want to do this on my own.” Hermione wanted to experience adult life among muggle peers. She knew who she was as a witch, but had lost touch with some of her muggle customs. 

Harry understood that a small part of him could still feel disappointment among all the happiness he felt for his friend’s living preferences. It made sense for Hermione to live with muggles, as a muggle. Her curiosity would never let her settle for one lifestyle before experiencing others. 

In all their euphoria, neither noticed the rain coming down on them. “I understand, it makes sense. I’m happy for you, honest... but can we hurry along and submit your application before we’re drenched?” 

“Yes, Harry. Let’s go,” she took his hand and started walking to the Admissions office. She was pleased he understood her choice. 

“And can we apparate afterwards to Grimmauld? I know we’re all about muggle transport, but the traffic will be awful at noon and I promised Kreacher we’d have lunch there.”

Hermione squeezed his hand and looked up at him. Despite the gloomy London morning, Harry noticed her brilliant eyes illuminated her entire face. “We can apparate as long as you help with some reading I picked up from Hogwarts. I found the biographies of two Wizengamot members.”

Harry was willing to throw the whole Wizengamot Ledger into the mix, as long as she never stopped smiling at him like that. He felt a rush of energy pass through his whole body. His heart sprang up in euphoric beats. His knees gave a jolt and his lungs breathed in the April rain. 

“Brilliant.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've edited this chapter even before I posted the story. I think it's the fourth or fifth full round, but time allowed me to add more background and also develop a stronger legislative strategy (wand law!).


	3. Chapter III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Hermione make decisions about their future together. Some smut.

**Chapter III**

_INTERLUDE JUNE 1999 - DRACO AND LAVENDER_

Soon after Professor Flitwick dismissed Seventh & Eighth Year Charms, Lavender pulled Draco back to a secluded corner of the classroom. This went unnoticed by their peers, since most hurried after Hermione for extra lessons during study-hall.

“The hell, Brown. What is your problem?!” Draco poorly hid his surprise by straightening his robes. Even though most Eighth Years were on friendly terms (even with Draco), he did not consider it enough of an excuse to start grabbing onto each other with such uninhibited manners. 

“Listen, I think it’s about time you and I come clean. I thought I was projecting, that I wanted to commiserate over it because it was really hard this past Winter to transform in the Shack, but I noticed your poor glamour charms, and how lethargic you appeared in some lessons, and it is _always_ ‘round the full moon, so there must only be one conclusion.” 

“That I have poor cosmetic skills?” Jeered Draco and had it been a different conversation, Lavender would probably have already walked out to forget the exchange. But Lavender could no longer ignore Draco’s aura screaming for help. She recognized a splurge of confidence building in her spine, learned after months of quietly assuming leadership of a wofl pack. Draco needed help. Besides, Lavender felt so sure of her theory— she had even consulted the tea leaves and charted Uranus’ trajectory for goodness sake! 

_With great power, comes great responsibility_ , Dean had once said. Lavender stood straighter. “You’re a werewolf.”

Draco’s face blanched three shades lighter (and Lavender thought she really needed to give him personal glamour charm lessons). “What do you want?”

“What? Nothing.” Lavender had been prepared for denial but not this kind of abrupt response. “I’m a werewolf too! I should have started with that… Point being, we’re about to graduate and I wanted to come clean, lend a helping hand sorta speak. Also I was a _tiny_ bit selfish in hoping I wasn’t the only one?” 

A silent, yet pinker, Malfoy gave Lavender the confidence to continue. He no longer looked mortified, but expectant. 

“How are you coping with lycanthropy? I had the most horrid winter all locked up in the Shrieking Shack. Where have you been transforming and has it been easier on you?” 

“You don’t want anything?” He asked again. 

“I don’t want anything,” she repeated. “I caught you off guard, sorry. I was a little too enthusiastic and—” 

“I make my own batch of Wolfsbane and go to the Forest on every moon,” he finally shared. 

“Isn’t it dangerous? We can tell Headmistress McGonagall to make better arrangements for this month, she knows about my case, as Hermione. They’ve been helping me,” offered Lavender. 

“Mother and I agreed that the Forest would be best given my previous experience with this. There is an amicable pack that’s lived there for decades. Has Professor Slughorn been making your Wolfsbane?” 

Lavender was as surprised as Draco by his question, but offered a small nod and a smile in return. In the Book of Draco Malfoy, they called that progress.

“Good. The Headmistress didn’t tell me there was another student at Hogwarts,” said Draco with an air of the old pompous student who used to thrive as an insider.

Lavender almost rolled her eyes. “She didn’t tell me either. It means she respects our privacy. How long have you been making your own Wolfsbane? That’s impressive.” 

“My godfather taught me how to make it when I first turned. He said to never rely on private distributors.” Lavender did not need to know his godfather had been tormenting Hogwarts students the year prior.

“Smart man. I wish I had thought of that sooner.”

“Won’t Slughorn supply you this Summer?”

Lavender wondered if she’d ever heard a Malfoy _care_ before. “He will be away on Holiday, unfortunately. Know anyone that can help?” 

Draco partially blamed his curiosity, but to him Lavender carried her status as a werewolf better than anyone he’d ever met. It was such a contrast to Greyback’s arrogant complex, different from all the other werewolves he’d met under Voldemort who lived terrified that any wrong move in front of the madman would result in their death. All the werewolves he’d met before had acted on rage, and none of them had liked their affliction. Lavender was different, comfortable in her new skin and who she was. 

Half curious, half hopeful to be a man comfortable in his own skin, Draco tied his fate to a Gryffindor. “I’ll do it.” 

“Say again?” 

“It’ll be good practice for a future Potions Master. It won’t trouble me.” 

Lavender didn’t mind hearing traces of his old conceited self, he’d been so gloomy since Winter. “Cheers! Now, can I give you better glamour tips? No reason for lycanthropy to take our beauty away.”

**JULY 1999 - HARRY**

“POTTER! Off to observation in Room 3!” Captain White had a habit of shouting off orders from her office door. A habit she’d built from her past superiors on the field. 

“That’s not scheduled,” Ron said from across Harry’s cubicle. “Reckon that’s a recent capture or something?” 

“Not sure, mate. Tell Hermione I won’t make it to lunch, ya?” Ron waved him off and Harry hurried over to Room 3 Interrogation, reserved mostly for Death Eaters. The room had special wards placed to disarm the witch or wizard from their magic with shackles. 

Harry found a solemn Draco Malfoy being questioned by two experienced aurors. “What’s he in for?” 

Captain White sneered, “We caught him lurking in Knockturn Alley.” 

“That doesn’t break his parole _._ ” Knockturn Alley had its own fair of shady commercial business, but it wasn’t reason enough to detain someone. 

White snapped her head and ignored his remark. He’d forgotten to address her with respect. 

“He was caught red handed, purchasing a large supply of aconite. Aconite was used to enhance Peruvian Black Powder during the War,” Captain White took out her wand and amplified the room’s sound. “Now observe as Perkins and Dash pull a confession out of him.” 

“It’s also used in Wolfsbane,” Harry interrupted. “Is potion making a felony now?” 

“Potter, you’re here to observe, not offer counsel. Now tell me, what interrogation methods are they using?”

“ _B_ y the looks of it, they’ve increased fluorescent lighting, enhanced his shackles with shockwaves, and are now ignoring Malfoy’s request to counsel,” Harry emphasized. He recalled similar tactics used on Mo and Rich last Winter. “Ma’am, that’s Malfoy's third request to have his private counsel present during interrogation, should you not call Perkins and Dash back?”

White’s nose flared up as she called the aurors out of Room 3 and dismissed Harry, “Take a walk, Potter. You’re not needed for the day.” 

Harry’s nerves were on edge. He made it to his cubicle to owl Narcissa Malfoy (he doubted his colleagues would hurry off to the DMLE’s public solicitor) about Draco’s arrest. He sent a quick aeromemo to Ron and Hermione, and looked around his desk for any personal valuables. 

There were too many slip ups, authority using law and order to justify their abuse of power, which the new aurors were more than encouraged to follow. He realized he’d been driven to this moment ever since his meeting with Rich and Mo in January when he first learned about the raids. With one last look around, he stored his possessions in the pouch tucked inside his jacket. 

Harry Potter was going to quit the Auror Programme for good. 

~*~ 

After the third round of floo calls from Captain White and Head Auror Jones, Harry shut off his floo network. His Wednesday session with Eve had gone superb. His decision was not rash, he’d been thinking about it for months, accumulating data to serve the greater good. He felt validated. On the second day after his resignation, he wrote to Kingsley. The Order member had briefly mentored him as and supported Harry’s endeavors in law enforcement. By Saturday, he finally found some peace with his decision and even asked Andromeda for an extra day with Teddy. 

That same morning, a cross Kreacher ushered Hermione to the basement kitchen of Grimmauld place where he was feeding Teddy mashed bananas. 

“Oh, hi. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Hello. Kreacher let me in through the front door,” Hermione sat next to Teddy’s highchair. “Hi there, Teddy Bear. I apparated outside because I couldn’t get through the floo.” 

Harry thanked Kreacher for the help. In their last year, the relationship between the two became more amiable after Harry removed the bond Kreacher had to the Black House. As owner and adult to wizarding standards, Harry gained control of the wards and the magical chains that tied house elves to families. Ever since, Kreacher became a paid employee with flexible hours. However, he still despised whenever Harry opted for muggle rituals over magic.

He sighed, “He disapproves of the floo being shut off; finds it unbearable.”

“I noticed the pile of unopened letters in the study. He’s probably had to deal with dozens of owls on top of being patient with you. Are you alright? I would have come sooner, but I couldn’t get away.” 

His best friends tried to meet earlier in the week but both were caught by the Ministry’s unprecedented busy schedule. Ron and his fellow trainees were also given Harry’s paper work after his abrupt exit. 

“S’alright, just weird not having a proper schedule. One more, Teddy Bear,” Harry scooped another spoonful for his godson. “I asked Andy for an extra day with Teddy to keep me busy. I rather dirty nappies than dirty work. ” 

Hermione reached over Tedd’s highchair to squeeze Harry’s hand, “In case you didn’t already know, I’m very proud of you, Harry.” 

Any left over doubt vanished with Hermione’s reassurance. He turned his fist right side up and gently brushed Hermione’s knuckles. “Yeah?”

“Of course! I was ready to remind you of how awful it’s been these last few months.” Hermione squeezed his hand one last time and pulled back to clean Teddy’s chin. 

“Honestly, I think I convinced myself to stay and help keep Lavender and her Pack safe. ”

“You’ve done all you could with the aurors. I don’t know what else we could have changed without also addressing our laws. Now you’ll have more time to help with research,” Hermione’s eyes sparkled with all the possibilities of their growing campaign. 

“You’re right. How’s Teddy’s favourite policy wonk doing?” Right on queue, Teddy babbled and spit food on himself. 

“Robyn is working on a new tariff legislation to pick up negotiations with ICW. Very fascinating, to be honest. Did you know some of our most popular exports come from George’s shop?”

Harry laughed, not at all surprised at WWW’s international success. 

“The best bit, tho, is that I’ve picked up on Wizengamot Member dynamics. Here, I cleaned up our list,” Hermione tied her hair in a knot and procured a notebook from her briefcase, which Harry bet had an undetectable extension charm. 

Harry and Teddy both became enthralled by Hermione’s use of magic as she explained the dynamics of the 50 Wizengamot Members. With a tap, two columns divided the _Aye_ and _Nay_ votes. Most names on the _Aye_ column were highlighted in yellow, while 4 were in red. 

“This is the vote count from the Muggle-Born Commission last year. Here, we have twenty seven _Ayes_. These twenty two voted against, oh and Lord Perkins Sr here,” Hermione waved for a third column to appear, “he actually abstained. These highlighted names are the twenty two votes I’m confident we can get if Minister Shacklebolt were to call our bill to the floor.” 

“Twenty two, but we only need the majority, so four more names?” Asked Harry. 

“Right, but according to Robyn, her own tariff bill needs thirty votes. There’s talk among staff that Kingsley lost some political capital this session because we haven’t boosted our economy quickly enough. To make matters worse, The Prophet keeps publishing Elderwoods’ propaganda, that’s why I’ve been so tied-up lately.” Hermione’s frustration with the politician was palpable. “To avoid further backlash, the Minister is really emphasizing this 30 vote margin. We need 8 more votes.”

Some of Hermione’s hair frizzled from her knot, just as it used to back at Hogwarts when a challenge presented itself. 

“Why is Kingsley letting Elderwood and his lackeys pressure him?” 

“All nonsense. Kingsley needs to protect his seat for another two years if he really intends to fix Thicknesse’s mess.” 

“That’s a load of — What? Don’t look at me like that Hermione, you know it is.” Harry stood from his seat and cleaned after Teddy. From the sink, he asked Hermione if there was anything he could do to persuade Kingsley. 

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I’ll ask Robyn to help us adapt our strategy; she can weed out the drama from the politics, which I like.”

“Reckon there aren’t many Wiz Members like her,” echoed Harry. 

“You know, I often wonder how she got elected. Her ideas are radical compared to some of the old geese in there. What would you say if we ask her to introduce W.A.N.D. instead of Doge?” Hermione debated between Wood’s enthusiastic charge and Doge’s calm reassurance. She’d previously told Harry they needed someone more cool and center to introduce W.A.N.D. ( _Wand Access Not Denied_ ). “I’m convinced Robyn Wood will fight for this, Harry. I’ve yet to meet a Wiz that will stand for justice like her.”

“She’s got your vote of confidence, she’s got mine.” Harry made his way to her and squeezed her shoulder, “Don’t question your instincts, Hermione. It’s saved my life a few dozen times.” 

She beamed up at him, thankful for his trust. 

“It will work out. Now,” Harry raised Teddy in his arms, “ I think I have to change his nappy. Will you stay for dinner?”

“It’s not even lunch time.” 

“Well, stay for lunch _and_ dinner.” 

Hermione’s ever growing smile was radiant. “Alright, but I’ve got some work to do. Can I borrow your Library?”

“All yours.” 

**SEPTEMBER 1999 - HERMIONE**

_Granger_ — 

_I did as you asked and confirmed the 3 Wiz Members to vote in favour of W.A.N.D.. Morton and Bludger were too easy. They’ve got something against Elderwood at the moment, if it’s any help to you. Perkins Sr was harder to persuade, but I kindly reminded him of his son’s so-called-interrogation in July. Mother kindly floo’d him as well. Old friends (she hates the git)._

_Regards,_

_Draco L. Malfoy_

_Potions & Alchemy Apprentice, Beauxbatons _

Draco’s brown tabby settled atop the kitchenette and helped itself to some treats after a long trip from France. Her little studio was conveniently located in the Bangladeshi district of Spitalfields, London. She fell in love with the neighborhood’s vibrant atmosphere, lived among families, and had a lengthy list of take-out options to save her from her own culinary experiments. Living among muggles required some magical accommodations. Hermione learned spells to steer curious eyes away from her window after she was swept with letters and small presents when her Hogwarts Board of Governor’s acceptance was made public. There was also a nasty chase between Crookshanks and a Hogwarts Owl which made her break her own promise to not use extension charms on her flat. She compromised on increasing the height of her ceiling. Now the owls had plenty of space to fly into her home and rest away from the prying claws of her familiar. 

Crookshanks jumped down from his tree and meowed. It rubbed its head on her calf until Hermione filled his bowl with new pebbles. “Sorry, Crooks. I should also write this letter before our friend leaves.” 

Hermione wrote two letters and tugged them on the owl’s pouch. One was to Draco, to thank him for the intel and his work to secure 3 additional votes. The second was to Lavender, _30 votes!!_ Lavender was the reason for that morning’s win. She had motivated Hermione into reaching out to Draco for help. He had proven helpful, Lavender argued, since he brewed her supply of Wolfsbane. 

Hermione finished getting ready to go to work. She walked down to her tube station — _“It adds to my routine and gets me used to my future commute to school.”_ — en route to Whitehall. That morning, she specially needed the commute to calm her nerves. 

“You’re earlier than usual,” Robyn welcomed Hermione into her office. 

“We’ve got all the votes!” Hermione blurted out all the excitement she’d carried since the morning. “I got an owl this morning confirming Lords Bludger, Morton, and Perkins Sr.” 

The office blackboard updated its vote list, moving the three Lords from _Targets_ to _AYE Commitments_. As lead sponsor of W.A.N.D. Robyn took it upon herself to train Hermione in the passage of Wiz Bills and show her the ropes of how to best persuade their targets. In addition to shadowing Robyn on the Wizengamot floor, Hermione attended meetings and private committee planning sessions. Hermione helped the office with policy research, vote count, and in the rare instances, took on Wiz Member meetings by herself to introduce Robyn’s policy priorities. 

The Office of Robyn Wood would not survive, however, without the will and smarts of Beatrice Williams, a forty-two-year old witch who’d recently returned from maternity leave to support the efforts of their new government. Beatrice wrote policy memos as a hobby, read through old Wiz ledgers to find loopholes or abolish old laws, and even made time for constituent meetings out in the field. On top of all that, Robyn recently assigned Beatrice as Liaison between the Auror Office and Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. 

“We should motion a vote tomorrow; prevent Lord Elderwood from regrouping,” Robyn scribbled a quick note on an aeromemo to Minister Shacklebolt. “Work with Beatrice in drafting a floor speech, Hermione. You’ll be with me during the vote.” 

“You mean, actually next to you and the 49 other Wiz Members?” 

“Yes, and you’ll also partake in the debate as my second. Breathe in, Hermione, you’ve worked hard for this moment and it’s only fair that you join me on the floor,” Robyn smiled and for the hundredth time, Hermione recognized Robyn as her mentor. Robyn sought talented women and pushed them to their best, just as she had introduced Hermione to Hogwarts’ Board of Governors and offered her a Summer job. She had a hunch that Beatrice’s new assignment as Liaison would soon turn into an undersecretary role directly under the Minister for Magic. That’s what Robyn did, she trained someone until they found their own wings. 

“Thank you, Robyn, for everything. You’ve been spectacular and I’ve learned so much. I won’t disappoint you.”

“Good! Make sure it’s a speech you can be proud of, and who knows, maybe it won’t be your last,” Robyn hinted at Hermione’s future in the DMLE. 

Head Gawain Robards, of the DMLE, approached her over the Summer to join his legislative team after her time with Robyn. To Hermione’s own surprise, she politely refused his offer. Head Robards was still stuck in his antiquated legislative priorities and likely worked to maintain the status quo or bring back their old normal before Voldemort. But that old normal didn’t work and it excluded Hermione and other magical beings from participating. 

How ironic that the Summer job of her dreams made her realize her career at the DMLE would not be what she imagined as a student. The Wiz Members were almost too self-involved and preferred their judicial powers over any legislative changes they could create. Robyn allowed her to participate and contribute ideas to her policy priorities. That, was enough to give her hope in the possibility of a future inside the DMLE, but not anytime soon. “Maybe someday.” 

“I’m very much looking forward to that day,” Robyn’s eyes sparkled as bright as they had when they first met at Hogwarts. “Now, off you go. I would like the first draft by noon.”

  
  


**~*~**

On the 14th of September of 1999, W.A.N.D. passed with 30 votes in favor, 18 against, and 2 abstentions. In the distance, Hermione caught Minister Shacklebolt closing the day’s order, as members approached Madam Wood to congratulate her win. Few even shook Hermione’s hand. Lavender and Harry stood across from her in the public sitting area. They were present throughout the debate; she even noticed Ron’s brief appearance during his lunch break. Lord Elderwood fought passage of W.A.N.D. until the very end only to make a point (and get a few headlines).

“Congratulations, Hermione! You were fantastic,” Harry pulled her into a hug after she was freed from the Wiz delegation. 

“I still can’t believe it,” gushed Lavender when they hugged. “When do we start? I should also write to Mo with the news, make sure everyone knows.” 

“Implementation will start tomorrow. My colleague Beatrice will be leading the efforts with the Department of Magical Creatures starting with wand makers and business owners across Britain. Beatrice is also making sure the Auror Office is fully learned on the law.

“And Lavender, I know it’s only the start, but at least it provides some protections for the Pack. We’ve still got to change their status to Magical Beings,” Hermione chewed on her lip, a tell of the frantic list accumulating in her mind. 

“ _And_ other Magical Beings after that. We’ve got some work with House Elves still. Not to mention the Liaisons for Goblins and Centaurs have been speaking to the Quibbler, calling for more equity and respect for their cultures,” Harry added. 

Hermione read those editorials, too. Her list was ever growing. “I’ve been thinking about that, too, and what we can do from the outside. Look at us, technically, we’ve passed two bills, Harry, without having to work at the Ministry. We worked with the experts, and lobbied endlessly through our connections. What if, well, what if we make it more official?” 

“Official how?” 

“A proper organisation for equity and magical rights, better than S.P.E.W.”

“You’d drop out of Law School? You haven’t even started,” Lavender exclaimed. She looked between Harry and Hermione, already caught up in this new proposition.

“I wouldn’t,” Hermione reassured her. “I am still planning on it, and this would take a while, so I figured I could start setting it up while I’m at school. Besides, whatever I learn there I plan to bring into the magical community. I’ve gotten some training in policy, but I’m no expert yet _._

Lavender, no longer convinced it was a rushed decision, offered an idea of her own. “What about helping the community in the meantime? You said this could take a while to set up, but we still have kids converting without Wolfsbane because they can’t afford it. What if I found someone who could supply it for free?”

“You mean Draco?”

“I convinced him to double his supply for the kids who are not at Hogwarts yet. I haven’t worked out how to pass it through customs since it’s a large quantity — it didn’t raise their radar when it was just for me.”

“An organisation would allow it to travel through customs with no problems since it would be covered under gifts and donations,” Hermione agreed. Harry remained quiet throughout the exchange. He had been her partner in this little crusade since the war. She wanted his opinion, craved affirmation that she was on the right path, and more than anything, that he believed in this cause as strongly as her. “Harry?”

She sensed the turning curve of his smile before she saw it. His magic reached out to hers, its warmth enveloped her core until it settled in her gut, and hungered for more. “ I think it’s a great idea. I want to help, however you need me .” 

“Great! I’ve got a proposal in my flat.” A twenty page outline for her organisation sat neatly on her desk at home. For weeks, she poured ideas into the pages and read on historical accounts to similar legislative fights.

_Not like that,_ she pursed her lips at Lavender. 

“I’d love to see it,” smirked Harry. “Should I stop by at half six?” 

Lavender’s dimples made a special appearance throughout dinner that night. 

**DECEMBER 1999 - HARRY AND HERMIONE**

Hermione woke up to a soft rapping outside her door and rolled from her bed. The brief nap had been glorious. On the other side, a sheepish Harry stood waiting for her. Hermione hugged him hello since it had been so long since their last meet-up. He smelled like another day at the garden, rosemary and pines. She was glad the term was over. 

“I haven’t missed the reunion, have I?”

He greeted Crookshanks before sitting on her desk chair. He looked comfortable in his biker jacket. It tormented Hermione’s every waking fantasy. All dark colors against the pastels of her bedroom wall. Her mind drifted to images of black hair against floral bedsheet patterns. 

One heartbeat and wand swish later, her bedsheets tucked themselves neatly. She sat on the farthest end of the bed away from Harry, who seemed undisturbed by her sudden use of magic. 

“I thought I could catch you before you order take-out and treat you to a proper meal to celebrate the end of term. Something with _greens_ ,” he emphasized. 

“I probably do need a hearty meal—”

“You do.”

“— with greens. Mind waiting while I change?”

“Er, yeah. I mean, I don’t mind. Go ahead,” Harry’s cheeks turned furiously red as he turned around. 

“I’m going into the powder room, Harry. Stay and play with Crooks.”

“Right. Go ahead.” 

If she picked a pair of forest green knickers to switch into, it had nothing to do with how transfixed she’d become on the hue of his skin under his sweater, nor how his adam’s apple shifted beneath it. 

~*~

They dined at a Thai restaurant minutes from the pub. Harry’s sabbatical proved to be a success. For he first time in his recent memory, he was allowed peaceful moments of rest and reflection. First, he realized he missed having a job that could set him on a daily routine. He was going to start the job hunt in the new year. Second, he knew he loved spending time with Teddy and wanted to remain flexible, so a job with morning hours was best. Finally, he had no regrets. 

Harry was bombarded by the press after he resigned from the the Aurors Pogramme. _Abandoning the Wizarding World!_ He was called a _selfish, prick, hot-headed hero_ in one letter to the editor. Despite that, he remained level-headed and took refuge in the love and constant support from his friends and family. 

Hermione told him about her last week of exams. To this day, she would not be able to tell a soul how she managed to finish her first term at LSE without a time turner. Halfway through November, she was ready to kneel and beg the Ministy for another golden hourglass. Takeout dinners and the new fancy coffee shop on campus saved her from such pleads. 

“It was bloody difficult to read through theory and memorize tomes of property contracts that haven’t been used since Queen Victoria!”

“Tut tut, I think law school has finally made you cuss freely,” Harry jested. 

“I’ve _earned_ it.”

Her law school cohort also saved her. Off the small group of study partners, Eileen Song became her closest friend and ally. She admired her friend’s strong will to leave Korea and start a new life in a foreign country. Eileen reminded her of Mommy Yvonne’s own migration who as a widow made the trip from Nigeria with a ten year old Wendell by her side.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak about your grandma before,” Harry frowned.

Hermione casted her eyes away from Harry. “I felt bad. Talking about memories of my grandma when you didn’t even meet yours. I know it’s silly now, to stop talking about my family…”

Harry reached across the table to hold her hand. “I don’t want you ever hide your family from me, Hermione. I’m sorry I was too self-involved—”

“Harry, a maniac was after you.”

“—and I should’ve asked more. I was also very good at avoiding talk of your family. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I don’t want another Australian situation. I know how hard a choice that was for you to take on. I don’t want you to go through that by yourself. Ever. I want to help. I want to be there for you. So tell me about her.”

She opened her palm to his and started, “Mommy Yvonne …”

~*~ 

They found Lavender and Ron sitting across each other on a crowded booth. 

“Nice of you to join us. We’ve run out of small talk,” Lavender welcomed the pair.

“Something swallowed your tongue, Ron?” Harry clapped Ron’s back. 

“Sod it. Alright, Hermione?” 

“We just went out to dinner and lost track of time. Anyone else around?” The small pub was packed with locals on a Thursday night. She had written the coordinates, and directions from the Leaky, just in case. 

“Just dinner, now?” Lavender ignored Hermione’s crossed reaction. “Seamus and Dean are somewhere around, said something about football.”

“Hermione, do you want anything?” Harry who stood too close to Hermione, whose palm still rested on the small of her back since they walked inside the pub, and whose smile triggered an unfathomable warmth in her vagina politely offered to buy her a drink.

“Ginandtonic, please.” 

Soon after, other Gryffindors from their year rolled into the muggle pub with the jest and rowdiness of their usual common room days. Dean and Seamus reenacted a play by play of the quidditch match they caught in Brazil, their last stop of their abroad tour, finishing with a passionate speech by Seamus over the Brazilian football league and their loss against France, a game he rewatched on the tele four times. ( _“To the Beautiful Game!” Dean toasted_.) Parvati found her apprenticeship at Madame Malkin’s Yorkshire shop dull with the latest wave of marriages sweeping across Britain after the war. Neville and Luna were on a break; his apprenticeship with Professor Sprout classified him as Hogwarts staff ( _“Bit kinky, mate.” Ron._ ) Lavender settled shop on her end of the booth as palm reader after catching some muggles’ attention, which paid for two round of drinks for the group. Ron joined a merry group on their third rendition of _All I Want for Christmas is You._

And through the night, surrounded by laughter and heartbreak on a little booth inside the oddest place for Gryffindors to meet, Hermione remained pressed against Harry’s chest. 

“I think— _hip!_ I should go,” Neville hiccuped. “Gran will ‘ave my head — I’m late.”

“I think you’re past that, Nev,” Harry’s chest rumbled merrily against Hermione. He leaned impossibly closer to Hermione to speak above the noisy atmosphere. “I should walk him to the Floo.”

Instead of an answer, Hermione shoved Ron down the booth to get away from Harry’s baritone. Ron mistook this as chide. 

“Alright, I’ll walk him, too, Hermione. Stop shoving,” Ron finally stood from the booth, giving Hermione room to breathe. “Should’ve gone with Dean and Seamus—”

“Right. Thanks, Ron!” She lied to ignore the giggles from the other side of the booth. Lavender and Parvati found the whole exchange amusing. 

Neville waved to the three women good-bye, “Happy Christmas!” 

“Spill. What’s going on between you and Harry?” Lavender joined Hermione on her side of the booth and sipped on her negroni. 

It was useless to pretend in front of Lavender since her friend had been all smiles and dimples through the night. As her co-conspirator, Parvati was sure to have caught up. Hermione assumed her best business like voice, “You’ve noticed, too?” 

“Notice? Hermione he is practically flirting with you with no remorse. You’re blushing every other sentence and I am about ready to leave you both to suck faces.” 

“Though, take comfort on the fact that it would never be as ridiculous as Lavender and Ron,” Parvati cracked. 

“Har Har. Don’t remind me,” Lavender warned Parvati even though her eyes were directed at Hermione, trapping her further into the booth. “The sexual tension is giving me second hand embarrassment, if I’m honest.”

“Second that. Have you snogged?” Hermione’s eyes bulged at Parvati’s question. “A firm NO, then. Pity.”

“Get off her case. But you _do_ want to,” Lavender teased Hermione. 

“I do want to,” Hermione confessed for the first time to another living soul. “But, what if I’m not good at it, with him?” 

“What, sex?”

“Can you at least pretend to have some decency around people?” Hermione was glad they decided to meet at a muggle pub, where they were strangers to the world. “I’m not talking about sex. I’m not good at relationships: dotting them and being available all the time, being cute and such. I’m overwhelmed with school, for the first time in my life. I won’t manage a relationship well.”

“Hermione, you’ve described Ron.”

“I’ve seen you with Harry,” Lavender, who had spent the most of her year with either of them forming Werewolf legislation, reminded Hermione of all she’d been witness you. “Harry and you, you’re like partners. All this oranising you’ve done for the past two years, you’ve done together. You were not acting ‘cute’, and yet Harry saw you as if the sun shone right out of your arse. You are both practically…”

“In a relationship!” Parvati helped her friend.

“Yes, exactly. And maybe all I’ve seen just means you know how to work together _really well_ and are honestly the best of best friends, but you won’t know unless you do something about it.”

Hermione could not retain her laughter over the ordeal. She never _ever_ imagined seeking counsel from the two about men. But how glad she was to have had a change of heart and learned to appreciate the unique friendship and comfort that Lavender and Parvati offered. They lived together for six years and somehow liked each other more than ever. “I didn’t mean to laugh. I just thought how ludicrous this conversation would have been back at Hogwarts.” 

“Maybe we could’ve both avoided the whole Ron-thing,” wished Lavender. 

“And discussed Hermione’s track record of Quidditch players! Can I count Harry in now?” 

“Count me in where, what?” Harry and Ron stood at the end of their booth. 

“The next pub!” Lavender was quick to save Parvati. “You both in?”

“No, thanks. I came back to close our tab.” Hermione avoided Harry’s eyes at all cost, lest he figure out their conversation. 

“That’s alright, you can walk Hermione home! Ron, join us at the Leaky,” Parvati pushed Ron, who looked like the same Sixth Year that fumbled into a relationship. Lavender followed after the pair. 

Their friends’ departure unveiled all the tension Harry and Hermione carried between them. They took the tube to Spitalfields (Hermione could not fathom holding Harry close to apparate), both engrossed in how to best summon their Gryffindor Bravery until they stood outside her front door. 

“Hermione, I think—”

“Do you want a cuppa?” 

“Yeah, sounds great, actually.”

Crookshanks acknowledged their entrance to the little studio with a half growl, half meow from the top of his cat tree, breaking all tension between the two friends. Hermione put a kettle on and moved about the room as she undressed from her winter garments. She practically felt Harry’s eyes on her, until she asked him to sit and he sat only chair in her studio. Hermione served the tea and safely chose the edge of her bed, closer to him than in the morning. “You wanted to talk?”

He didn’t even hesitate, “I fancy you. Actually, I’m positive I’m in love with you.”

“Harry—”

“Hang on, please,” he stood to sit a foot apart from her on the bed, the farthest and yet, most intimate they’ve been all night. “I actually have never confessed before, you know. I jumped into the physical. But with you… I’ve sat in my room for hours trying to figure it out. I’ve tried rationalizing every argument you could possibly throw my way. 

“I’ve spent months _aching_ for you and damning my cowardice for thinking it was just a crush. Because you’re brilliant, Hermione, you are. Everything you do and try to improve, you do it with such relentless passion. You fight so hard for everyone and while stubborn, you’re willing to listen and learn. I’m floored that you get to call me your partner for some of the work. You must know that I want— I want _you_. I want to snog you madly. I want to love you but most of all I want you to love me, too. And before you ask, I swear to you, I only had half a pint tonight.”

Hermione slowly placed her tea mug on the floor and reached for Harry’s hands. “Can I go now?” 

He nodded vigorously. 

“Thank you. I mean, that’s the most I’ve ever heard you talk about your feelings and I’m very proud of you.” She gathered her own courage and scooted closer to Harry’s side, “I’m a little jealous, too, if I’m honest.” 

“Jealous of what?”

“Your bravery. I’ve admired it my whole life. I don’t mean how you fought Voldemort or broke into Gringotts. It is your compassion that makes you so brave, brave enough to quit the Aurors, when you fought for Lavender’s pack, and now when you openly share your feelings. I’ve been so _scared_ to show you.” Hermione let her palms press against his lap as she leaned into him. “But not anymore.”

She’d imagined any kiss with Harry was bound to be a good kiss. Had said so herself when she convinced him that he was a good kisser in Fifth. Hermione was unprepared for it to feel magical. 

Harry pulled her closer, his hands traveled from the nape of her neck to fervent touches on her back. It made for an awkward position since she avoided sitting on him. He made a trail of kisses from her jaw to her neck, and stopped short of exposing her collarbone. When nuzzled his nose into her neck to smell her, Hermione moaned. Harry pulled back, adam’s apple visibly moved under his roll-over sweater. “You good?”

“Never better.” His sheepish smile reminded her of the eleven year old she met on the train, thrilled about their new magical world. “And you?”

“Smashing.” 

“Can we talk some more?” Hermione asked.

He chuckled, “Yes. I told you I’ve been preparing all of my arguments for you, tonight. Where do you want to start?”

“I think we’ve covered how we feel for one another and proved to be compatible with that kiss.”

“I can test that part of the theory some more.”

“ _And,_ ” she emphasized, “we will be working together soon, as business partners, when I set up the org. I want to do this right, Harry. They say not to mix business with pleasure and I want to work this out, set some rules for how you’ll fund us, respect our business partnership.”

“Technically, it’s a philanthropic relationship,” Harry quipped. “Jesting aside, I’ve thought it through, too. I’ve asked Gringotts to recommend a private solicitor in the matter. We will have a third party arrange the grant contract, we will _both_ check that it meets our standards, and you will have all decision making for the group. You’re its founder, and I just happen to want to give you all my galleons to succeed.” 

“We agreed to just the 40,000 galleons, Harry!” 

“To start. Only 40,000 galleons.”

Hermione chewed on her lip, still nervous about the ordeal. It didn’t help that Harry kept touching her, as if their one kiss crumbled all barriers between them. “We’ll also have to tell Lavender since she will essentially be the only employee for a while.”

“And we’ll disclose it to the Board, when we get there,” he was so secured compared to the ball of nerves jumping inside Hermione. “I went to a muggle bookstore and picked up some books on philanthropy — oomph!”

She threw herself at him with a kiss. This time it was filled with smiles and small pecks across his face. “It’s reading then, what gets you going.” His laughter died down when Hermione accidentally pressed herself against him. 

“You look pretty,” Hermione’s tease turned filthy with her next words, “against my bedsheets.”

His throat parched, yet he audibly gulped and stopped any attempt to push up against her jeans. Harry Potter did not back away from a challenge. “Wait till you see me under ‘em.”

“OK.”

“Oh-kay?”

“Yes, stay the night. You hate apparating, the tube’s schedule is changing. It only makes sense,” she reasoned. “Only sleeping.”

“Just sleeping.”

The pair reluctantly pulled away from one another to ready for bed. Hermione moved about the room to calm her nerves. She conjured a new toothbrush from her cabinet and handed it to Harry, who was still deciding where to start changing. When Hermione entered the powder room to change, he removed his trousers at record speed, pulled his socks off and washed off for the night. They awkwardly switched turns for the loo, despite the fact that they’d seen each other at similar states of undress in the tent. 

“You can take your roll-over off,” Hermione in her light pink pyjama set and fuzzy sucks suggested from the bed. 

Harry removed his glasses and didn’t hesitate to pull his sweater off and painstakingly folded the garment to avoid looking at her loose top, lest he imagined her nipples. He got under the covers and took notice of her radiating warmth. He turned his head to find Hermione staring at him. “Still pretty?” 

“You were right, charmingly handsome,” Hermione leaned over with a soft kiss. “And while I’d love to snog that grin off your face, I’m beat. I’ve got to finish Christmas shopping tomorrow.”

The looming presence of a Wendell Granger emerged. “Hermione, am I still invited to Christmas Eve with your folks?” 

“Of course, you are, Harry. You do want to, right?”

“I want to,” he pushed her loose hair behind her ear and settled his palm against her neck. His thumb pulled her bottom lip from her teeth to kiss her better. “Christmas Eve with you, Christmas with Teddy, Boxing Day at the Burrow.”

Hermione opened her mouth to him in approval. She invited him to deepen the kiss and pushed her tongue against his, wanting more. 

Harry complied briefly. “Sleep. Christmas shopping tomorrow.”

Hermione succumbed to the highs of the day and the gin as her muscles relaxed into sweet rest. But the strangeness of having someone sleeping next to her rose her in the middle of the night. Her sight adjusted to the darkness of the room and found Harry’s deep eyes on her. 

“I expected to rise with half your hair stuck on my face, not Crookshanks.”

She snorted at the sight, her half-kneazle purred and stayed curled-up on Harry’s chest. It was sound asleep. “At least he is not on your face. It’s happened twice now.”

Harry’s laughter caused Crookshanks to yowl and hop off him. They laughed even harder at the pesky cat as it jumped off to the windowsill to lick its wounded pride. 

“Shh. We mustn’t anymore or he’d bite our toes,” Hermione swatted his chest. 

“Would he? Even through your fluffy sucks,” Harry’s right foot rubbed her feet playfully until it slipped between her legs. A shiver ran down her spine and she became all to aware of her growing wetness. Harry ever so slowly, while keeping his eyes on Hermione, pushed more of his thigh in between her legs, stopping short of her sex. He breathed in and asked, “This okay?”

She pushed her self against him, pyjama shorts riding up as she sought friction. 

“Do you want to sleep, Hermione?” She shook her head and experimentally pushed further into his thigh. “Sweet Merlin.”

This time, his kisses were most ardent. Her heart stammered out sweet moans as the friction of his thigh pushed her knickers and rubbed against her clit. In all her fantasies, she never imagined riding Harry Potter’s leg would turn her into a wanton. In all her growing pleasure, she almost missed Harry’s question to lay on their sides. They separated briefly to find a more comfortable spot. Harry’s arm snuck under her torso and folded itself onto her breasts, the other pushed her hair aside to kiss her nape. 

“Can you close your eyes?” Harry’s voice, although low, was charged with power. She hummed in agreement. “While you were in Australia, I made early calls so I could hear you just like now, mumbling against the pillow at the crack of dawn.”

Hermione moaned onto her shoulder, as his finger twisted a nipple. He hadn’t yet touched her cunt. “Harry…” 

“Shh, shhh,” his hand drew patterns against her arm until it settled against her belly, he stretched his palm open and pushed her bum to meet his cock. “And I stayed like this throughout them.”

“Fuck, please,” Hermione sobbed and interlocked his right hand with hers to stroke her damped knickers. “Please.”

Harry’s hand nudged the material over, a finger parted her wetness while the other teased her clit. He breathed against her shoulder. “Did you wake up like this, too?”

“In Australia? Yes. Whenever you called.”

Harry pressed a finger inside her folds. “Did you ever cum?”

“Only after you-you hung up.”

Two fingers stroked the length of her cunt. They pressed inside her at the same tempo as his cock digged into her arse. She pushed down her shorts and knickers for him and heard him chuckle into her neck, which she quickly found to be one of his favorite spots of her. He nipped and sucked harder when Hermione asked for more, and saw a mirth to him that she’d never seen before. Her mind exploded with the realization that it could be love. 

“Oh, fuh-fuck, mphmmm.” 

Harry swallowed her screams as she orgasmed. When she came to, Harry was already hunched over her with the sweetest smile. He raised an eyebrow, “So, Australia?” 

Hermione smacked her temple and mumbled behind her arm, “I may have a slight fascination with your voice.”

“Wait until you hear Parseltongue.”

“Prove it.”

Bedsheets were ruffled to their feet, Harry lifted Hermione’s legs and brought her closer to the edge of the bed. That night, Hermione learned the finer notes of Salazar Slytherin’s language dancing on Harry’s tongue. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Initially, Harry and Hermione were going to have this grand gesture on New Year's Eve midnight countdown because new century! new life with the one you love! But the characters reminded me that they're not for grand gestures, but the constant reassurance of being intimate together, in the smallest of actions. 
> 
> Pardon the smut, I'm rusty. 
> 
> PS. I've got so much head-canon that it almost drove this story into a different direction.


	4. Chapter IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit, I haven't found a way to write Kreacher which annoys me because he is a magical being impacted by the justice system in Britain. We should read from him, read his perspectives, etc. But I can't crack it. 
> 
> The information about the Ugandan Refugee program is real and awesome.

**BOXING DAY 1999 - RON**

To any bystander at the Weasley’s Annual Boxing Day Celebration, Harry and Hermione were their usual selves. But to Ron Weasley, best mate for nearly a decade who lived through Stressful O.W.L.s with Hermione, Triwizard Tournament Angst with Harry, and a whole array of impending doom in the tent, he noticed that the pair carried themselves lighter that evening. Hermione seemed to float from one conversation to the next, which was impossible because the brightest witch of her age had not achieved wandless self-levitation (yet). Harry cracked jokes, flew Teddy around his little broomstick, and looked _giddy_ which was a first for him. If Ron remembered correctly, he had not seen Harry that giddy and upbeat since he took Felix Felicis, the night Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup on Sixth and — 

Earlier that evening, Ron remembered hearing about Harry’s baking skills over Christmas Eve at the Granger’s (he baked them pumpkin pie) and Hermione’s surprise Christmas at Andy’s. To top it, Teddy arrived at the Burrow with a mane of curly hair that mimicked Hermione’s which he tended to do whenever he spent time with her. Had it not been for Andromeda or Dr Ganger’s dutiful observations (or Teddy’s hair) Ron would have likely missed uncovering his friends’ secret. Had they even parted at all since their night out in Muggle London? 

Harry walked into the kitchen after putting Teddy to sleep in Percy’s old room, which Molly had turned into a nursery for whenever Fleur and Bill stayed over in the future. 

“Alright, Harry?” Ron handed him a butterbeer and clinked the bottles together. 

“It’s the season to be merry,” Harry grinned back and took a swing of the cold beverage. 

“Hmm. You look happy for once. Have you dosed Hermione with the same spirits?” Ron took a swing of his own beer and waited for the blush he knew would take over Harry’s face. Sure enough, Harry coughed up his drink. 

“Sorry, what?” 

“I said,” Ron stressed his words, “you look happy, kinda charmed and smitten. Is it a bird or a bloke this time? Hermione looks as if she’s getting her own share of action, notice how she’s practically floating? Reckon it’s some good —”

“Ron! I don’t think it’s appropriate for you to insinuate— Hermione,” Harry massaged his temple trying to come up with words. ”You’ve no — it’s not our place.”

“You’re right, I should’ve focused on you instead. So how long have you been with Hermione?” 

Right on queue, the witch walked into the kitchen looking for something cool to drink after dancing with George and Angelina. She was starting to protest over the aerodynamics debate in the next room but was caught in between Harry’s miffed posture and Ron’s triumphant grin.

“Oh, Harry, you’ve told him, haven’t you? I thought we were going to do it together.” Hermione instinctively reached for Harry’s arm, who broke from his hard posture into a sheepish grin as he patted her resting hand. To Ron’s surprise, that was not the first time his friends relaxed with one another’s touch. 

A small part of him had always envied their closeness. First, because he realized Hermione was a girl with breasts, then because he convinced himself that Hermione was going to be the only girl to ever accept him (and his family)… But if he was being honest, Ron envied their friendship the most. From their mutual admiration to full on trust until the death. Harry and Hermione really understood one another, in a way he had craved to be understood and seen as a boy among 7 kids. 

“He kinda just figured it out,” Harry shrugged. “How did you figure it out?”

“Ron, we swear we were going to tell you first—”

Ron sat down and took a long swing of his butterbeer. “Fuck.”

“Ron, please—”

“You’re in love with her.” Ron realized he’d said out loud when Hermione blushed as Harry gave him a firm nod. “I mean, bloody hell. I only started putting pieces together tonight and I thought it was a passing fancy, because why the hell not, I kind of expected it earlier, if I’m honest with myself, but you’re actually, you’re like,” Ron screwed his face, “ _in love_.” 

“Does the idea of your friends being together disgust you that much, Ronald?” Hermione pursed her lips and assumed her typical sterned stance. “I thought you were going to be a little more _civil_ , at the very least.” 

He couldn’t help but laugh. Leave it to Hermione to fall into old patterns. Soon after, Harry and Hermione joined in with hearty laughter, relieved that it had gone better than planned. Fuck, Harry _and_ Hermione. 

“Well, cheers!” Ron raised his beer for a toast. 

“That’s it?” Hermione asked, looking between both her friends. 

“Yeah, well, what else is there to say? You’re both happy and you don’t need my permission. Not that you’d ever ask.”

“Never,” Harry emphasized. “Hermione would cut off our bullocks if we ever considered.” 

“ _Harry_!” 

Ron snorted at the image. “You leave the man’s bullocks alone, Hermione. Or don’t — oh, yuck, I just walked right into that one.”

“Ronald Billius Weasley!”

Their laughter invited more Weasleys into the room, and soon enough George and Charlie cajoled most of the party into rounds of exploding snaps, which brought out the competitive streak from the Grangers. His mum, ever so attentive to Fluer’s pregnancy, fed his sister-in-law pastries and hand-pies, even Ginny seemed enthusiastic with the new addition to their family as she convinced Bill to make her the godmother of his newborn. His dad and Percy debated the conditions of the tariffs with no remorse. The Weasleys had finally broken free from their grief and for the first time in a while, Ron realized he was looking forward to a new future.

Harry was right, t’was the season to be merry.

**JANUARY 2000 - HARRY**

The new millennial made eager beavers out of muggles and magicals alike. Within the first month, fortune teller businesses popped into Diagon Alley with promises for health, lasting love, and riches (which was impossible because goblin magic was tremendously hard to mimic, Hermione once said). Some witches even ventured into the Muggle London market, which, to Harry’s surprise, Hermione eagerly supported. 

_“Fortune tellers have existed for centuries, Harry. No one will know if their reader is a witch or a muggle; it’s all nonsense at the end of the day. Besides, so long as people abide by the International Statute, we’re fine.”_

All the commotion made Harry restless to find a job in the wizarding world (no A-levels meant he had too narrow options as a muggle). On top of that, he had to consider his fame which irritated him a great deal, especially after news broke out about his surprise exit from the Aurors Programme. They had high hopes for the Saviour of the Wizarding World, the fan letter said, which pissed off Harry to no end. So few knew the cruelty and injustice that played in the high courts of the Wizengamot as Aurors became more emboldened in their approach in the name of security. That same system — which he narrowly escaped from — forced Sirius into Azkaban with no trial, allowed for Barty Crouch Jr to be kissed by Dementors with no questioning, and destabilized Fudge’s Ministry to be taken over by Death Eaters. 

That had been two months worth of sessions with Eve. 

For now, Harry settled into a regular routine until he found a proper job offer. On Sundays after brunch with Hermione, Andy dropped Teddy before her 48-hour shift at St Mungos. Tuesday afternoon tea with Andy, Wednesdays morning consults with Eve, followed by a stroll and lunch with Hermione on campus. Thursdays he pined after her. And on Fridays, his correspondence was so high that Kreacher usually locked him in the Library until he addressed all mail and banking notes. 

Saturday date nights ended on Hermione’s small flat where Harry discovered her preference for morning sex as their languid bodies climaxed in broad daylight. 

Hermione’s body stirred next to him in bed. Unlike their past routine, they had decided to spend the whole weekend together since her studies were bound to pick up in February. 

“G’morning,” he kissed her. “I’ve got coffee brewing and Crooks has been fed.” 

“Thank you,” she returned his kiss. “Curious, is this your way of keeping me in bed?” He cheekly asked if it was working, but Hermione reluctantly pulled away from his kiss to remind him of her meeting with Beatrice. “She’s agreed to look over the first draft of the bylaws. Maybe I can convince her to hand over more details about W.A.N.D.s implementation campaign. The Ministry has been tight-lip all Winter.” 

“And by all winter you mean just January, not counting the holiday break Beatrice took in December. I think you can give her a bit more time for the first Ministry report.” Harry knew Hermione had a small affinity for governmental bureaucracy. 

“A month too long,” she grumbled. 

“I meant, you’ve worked with her and know she’s brilliantly competent. Hear her out and learn something from all the bureaucratic crap she’s dealing with, could be worth the wait.”

Hermione’s face glowed in the special way he loved because it usually meant he’d done something brilliant, or thrown himself in front of 100 dementors in a reckless act of bravery. And in the moment, when he asked her to be patient, it probably meant both. 

“You’re a wonder, Harry Potter,” her tongue coaxed his own as her hand moved into his boxers where a half-hard cock rose to attention. “Wonderful Harry Potter.” 

“Just Harry.” 

There was no hurry to their lovemaking, even when they were pressed for time, Hermione and Harry moved languidly against each other. He lifted her nightshirt to kiss her breasts and suck on her hard nipples. Gently, he started to massage the nape of her neck with one hand while the other pushed her up against his face to make a delicious meal of her. When he tried to flip them over, she pushed him against her small bed and secured herself on top of him. Her top was off, his boxers disappeared in an unmistakable act of unconscious wandless magic, but all he could do was stare at the growing spot in the middle of her knickers pressing against his abdomen. 

“Bloody hell, did a bureaucratic conversation just turn you on?” 

“Uh, maybe? Now will you also vanish my knickers or must I — thank fuck,” she scurried herself near and slowly girated her hips over him while Harry stroked his own dick to full erection. “Touch me, _Ha_ — _ah!_ ”

Hermione pushed herself against his fingers, her own hands helped keep her steady against his chest as she built her momentum. Minutes after when she could no longer take the built up tension between her folds with every stroke, they fixed themselves until he was in a sitting position and her on top. Harry closed his eyes when she started to stroke him again, her hand cool from the lube she quietly conjured. 

Immediately after, he was engulfed in the heat of her slick descent until he was fully inside her. He had enough practice in the art of sex to keep from ejaculating right that moment. But, did she make it a challenge.

Both were caught in gasps, clashing teeth and open mouths, in the anticipation of being full, yet wanting more. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” Harry religiously encouraged with his thumb against her clit. “Come for me.”

“I’m so close, Harry,” she whined. Her nails were already leaving half moon marks on his shoulders. 

“Tell me what you need.”

“Oh, can’t.” She shook her head and hid her face in the crook of his neck. But Harry pulled her back.

With an open palm against her cheek and a soft kiss, he coaxed. “Hermione, you can always be honest with me.”

Hermione’s temple rested against his own and she squeezed her cunt around his member as she contemplated her next words. She exposed her neck and spoke, “Bite me, hard, please.”

In a distant memory, he saw Hermione hunched over books and rolls of parchment in the library, stopping only to stretch and gyrate her neck from time to time to relieve some pain. She was stressed over exams, again. With her project coming together and Beatrice’s meeting, there was no doubt that she needed to destress. 

Harry didn’t hesitate; he sucked on the exposed flesh and licked the small droplet of blood that started to form. Her orgasm was instantaneous and it built shocks at the end of his own spine as his orgasm neared. Harry flipped them over to continue to thrust into her while Hermione, satisfied and all giggles, moaned in bliss. Harry came inside her, caught in her wanton display and trust.

She was still smiling with her eyes closed when he regained his full bearings. One of her hands gently ran itself over the snares of his hair while the other caressed her reddish love bite. Had he not just spent himself, he would have cum all over again. 

“Don’t start something you can’t finish.” 

“I wish I could stay longer. Thank you, Harry.” She rubbed her neck, where the bite started to bruise.

“Did I hurt you?” He needed to hear that she was okay. 

“I’m alright, I promise.” 

He kissed her bruise gently before his wand hovered a cooling charm against the love bite. Harry took the opportunity to pull from her and scourgify their fluids. “You should shower first. I’ll finish here.”

She went to the loo while he tended the bed. Hermione still had well over an hour left before her coffee with Beatrice so he started on breakfast. With her limited supplies in the fridge, he prepared scrambled eggs, bacon with a few of the cherry tomatoes he salvaged, and toast. For someone incredibly pesky over potion ingredient maintenance, Hermione had a penchant for letting her fresh veggies rot. She survived on take-out salad bowls, fish curry, and her dad’s infamous crunchy akaras, saved for special study sessions. He also found a tupperware of leftover jollof rice, which she perfected during the short time they lived together before Australia. 

“I’m sorry we can’t brunch properly,” Hermione walked back into the room, freshly showered and changed. 

“S’alright. Coffee is still hot,” Harry motioned to the mug he’d charmed across from him. “Think you’ll finalize the registration with Beatrice’s help this week?” 

“Not just yet,” Hermione bit into her toast. “If they’re any good, I can finally visit the Ministry and register _The Alliance_ , then, I can open a Gringotts account for the organisation. Then, your grant would be most welcomed, Mr Potter.” 

“Cheeky,” Harry pinched Hermione’s middle. “I will ask Leo to draw up the documents whenever you’re ready, just say the word.” 

Leo Carter was one of the solicitors Gringotts recommended to advise Harry’s philanthropic ventures. As a squib, Leo was an expert in both magical and muggle law, which convinced Harry of the man’s expertise to manage his monies in both societies. Harry’s estate was so vast, he still had to make a dent in the Sleekeazy’s earnings, which convinced him to look into other muggle organisations besides Hermione’s.

“Thank you, Harry. What about you, what do you have planned for the day?”

“I’m taking a trip with Teddy today. There’s a day school out in Dover that may have a job opening, according to Mrs Figg.” 

“How is she? Isn’t it odd that at one point she was a constant in our lives and now she and the Order just — gone? War over, goodbye?” Hermione had her own share of critique over the Order’s campaign against Tom Riddle and where it usually left Harry in the ordeal.

“Still trading half kneazles,” Harry popped a tomato in his mouth and contemplated how much to share since he still was unsure about the job himself. “It’s a transition school and they’re looking for a Charms instructor.” 

“But children aren’t allowed to use magic outside of Hogwarts.”

“Supposedly the French Headmaster has bent the rules and acquired permission under ICW jurisdiction. I would be a Charms Meditator for half-muggleborn grade schoolers training to go to Hogwarts. The School also accepts squibs.” 

Harry had taken his N.E.W.T.s while in Auror Training and received an O in Charms. He was alarmed when instead of support, Hermione chewed on her bottom lip.

“What is it?” He tried.

“I was just thinking… We’re either shamed for being muggleborn entering this new world or shamed into hiding like squibs. No in-between. There’s so much to learn still, isn’t there?” 

Harry had thought the same. He reached for Hermione’s hand in comfort, “I think that’s why I want to give this a go. When I got to Hogwarts I felt so dumb for not knowing simple spells because no one at home taught me. Of course, you were the exception.” 

“I was a swot, Harry. Don’t you dare belittle your knowledge. You’ve got more drive than any other wizard I’ve ever met, you’re practically a natural,” Hermione expressed her own admiration.

“Well, natural or practiced, I think some occlumency lessons and the billion books you’ve made me read in the tent have helped. They’re just 6 to 8 year olds, can’t be that bad, can it?” 

Hermione laughed, “Not as bad as you, I’m sure.” 

“Well, even if I don’t get it, it’ll be a solid trip to the port for Teddy.”

Of course, Harry got the job. 

~*~ 

Headmaster Brodeur was a French Squib who, after a successful career in her home country founded  _ Charming Nifflers  _ in 1988 because the Witch-Brits ran a poor primary school system for hopeful wizards. Unlike typical witch buildings Nifflers was a regular looking muggle building, which reminded Harry of his own primary school in Little Whinging. 

Harry loved his job and loved the kids. While the job initially was for Charms Meditator, Brodeur proposed an afterschool Defense Coach program for squibs who attended muggle secondary school. He enjoyed writing lesson plans for six year olds and found that meditation helped control their magic. After School was harder for him to manage. Teenagers were not as driven to learn defense when there wasn’t a madman on the loose. It was his most challenging class since half of it was theory and the other half was harder to execute when his students lacked a magical core. While his students couldn’t produce a patronus, they could be trained to identify the signs of a dementor and build a mental block to protect themselves from attacks. 

His after school lessons got a little more experiential when they studied werewolves and he invited Lavender to give first-account details of her transformation. He figured that was a good way to start reversing prejudices.

Halfway through his first term as teacher, Harry broke from his regular routine to include new adventures. 

**MARCH, APRIL, MAY 2000 - HERMIONE**

By early March, Hermione practically moved into Harry’s home. More specifically, she commandeered the entire ground floor. The library and study room turned into her little office with sketches and poster size copies of the bylaws for _The Alliance_ , the name she’d chosen for her organisation. Harry often joked she stayed for his inherited library, over his company. The formal Black Dining Room, which once entertained aristocrats, became a reception area for Lavender’s interviews with werewolves, who as Community Engagement Officer, she was in charge of coordinating Draco’s in-kind donation of Wolfsbane from France to England through legal Ministry channels. Her second task was to contact members of the Pack to receive the potion. Lavender’s third task was to finally write her own job description as Hermione requested months earlier. It was tedious and Lavender much preferred to just “do the thing”, but she was sure there was an empowerment lesson hidden behind it all. How dreadful. 

Hermione escaped her study group on the pretense of a family emergency which rarely anyone bought, particularly Eileen who winked at her. She apparated at Grimmauld Place to wait for the Ministry’s customs messenger with Lavender. After tedious paperwork and tax forms, they finally acquired a permit to receive Draco’s wolfsbane supply for their programme.

“Hello. Anything yet?” She sat next to Lavender in the dining room, waiting for the chimney to spew out to The Ministry’s messenger happened to be running late. 

Lavender shook her head. “Kreacher made some sandwiches.” 

“He makes the best tuna melts, doesn’t he?” 

Lavender agreed and hesitated before asking Hermione about Kreacher, who often hid from Lavender. “Were you serious about asking him to run our books? Would he want to?”

“It’s up to him if he wants to or not. I only know he’s got experience running the Black Books when Sirius was in Azkaban and Walburga retired from society. Thanks to Kreacher, Harry managed to keep this house in order. As far as I’m aware, he’s the best there is and we need the best to make this work.” Hermione raised an eyebrow, “Do you have any problems with that?” 

“‘Course I don’t! Only... he rarely speaks to me when I’m here so I was curious if he’s got a prejudice against my kind. I’ve heard plenty about the Black Family,” Lavender admitted. She rarely let someone’s prejudice get under her skin, but Hermione realized Kreacher wasn’t just anyone, he had become a part of their life, and by extension, Lavender’s. 

“He’s a bit shy,” Hermione began to untangle her friend’s fears. “You remember Harry explaining this when you first met, don’t you? In addition to his house elf’s bond with the Blacks, he was trapped under dark magic and lived all by himself and his ghosts for well over a decade. It takes him time to adjust to new people. I think these sandwiches are a good start.”

“If this is how he shows he likes someone, I’m sold.” Lavender beamed. “I’ll adjust to his pace.”

“Good because Kreacher accepted my offer last week and that is how your paycheck was securely processed,” Hermione triumphantly bit into her sandwich. 

Before Lavender could join in Hermione’s triumphant win, a voice from the chimney asked for Ms Brown. Engulfed in green, a ministry official confirmed that Mr Malfoy’s package safely arrived and passed through inspection. “It’s ready for pickup, miss.” 

“Thank you. Can I ask why the delay? We expected these a half hour ago,” Lavender pursed her lips at the flustered messenger. 

“Sorry, Ms Brown. An aurors team also had to check the package since Mr Malfoy’s, er, records require he go under an extra layer of security measures.” 

“And was everything in order?” Lavender tried to hide her annoyance. She had gone through an extensive application process to avoid all of this. 

“Yes, miss, that’s why I’m here because we found Wolfsbane potions packed as the paperwork indicated. Everything is in —”

“Right, then I see no further problems in the future when Mr Malfoy makes another delivery. Make sure to advise your superiors that I will be following up with a formal complaint. Good bye.” 

When the green wizard popped away from the call, Hermione complimented Lavender. “I think you handled that well, all things considered. You still may expect delays next month tho.”

“I know, but I’ll still follow up with a formal complaint. I’m tired of aurors meddling where they don’t belong,” Lavender huffed. “Someone’s gotta fight for all werewolves, even if they are pompous aristocrats like Draco.” 

On his brief visit over winter break, Draco came out as a werewolf to Harry and Hermione. Hermione admitted to knowing his secret since the start of their Eighth Year, not because Lavender broke his trust. The witch was exceptionally smart and intuitive, and Harry told Draco about Professor Lupin. 

Hermione agreed that Lavender should submit a formal complaint, lest the customs department created a new habit. Still, she offered her friend and colleague support. “Do you want me to come and pick up the package with you?” 

Lavender shook her head, “I prefer to go alone. They should start getting acquainted with me since I’ll be doing this from here on out. I’m The Alliance’s Community _Engagement_ Officer, after all.” 

The following morning, Hermione received an owl from Lavender. 

_Community Engagement Officer Job Responsibilities:_

  * _Build and maintain strategic relationships with community leaders, leading experts, and constituents_


  * Supervis aid programmes for community members, including in-kind donations given to the organisation as part of their welfare campaign(s)


  * Initiate and regulate direct-advocacy requests from magical beings including but not limited to centaurs, elves, goblins, merpeople, squibs, vampires, and werewolves



~ * ~ 

Technically, Hermione didn’t poach Kreacher from Harry. He was free to do as he liked and work for whomever he wanted. But Hermione still felt a little bad when she visited Harry on a Friday afternoon and found him sweeping the third floor landing since Kreacher’s job change had been last minute.

“Found you,” Hermione greeted from the stairs. “Don’t you think it’s time to hire someone to help? Half the mess is mine.”

Harry chuckled, “I’ve been doing this since I was five, honestly it’s no problem.” 

_Fucking Dursleys,_ Hermione thought. While she was used to Harry dropping traumatic bombs on her, it never felt good to imagine what he’d gone through. She reminded herself to focus on the present and tried again. “I mean it, Harry. We’ve essentially occupied the ground floor as our headquarters and while we keep it clean with Lavender’s amazing charms, I still have a set budget for maintenance and such. Let me help.” 

Harry considered her proposal as he finished sweeping. He scourgified the dust and sent the broom down the stairs into the basement cupboard, and walked with Hermione into his bedroom to clean up. Hermione waited for Harry at the end of the bed. 

He looked serious and fretted over his hair. “Since we’re on the subject… I’m thinking of moving out and when I do, I want to hand over Grimmauld to you. To Alliance, to be precise.”

“Harry, but this is _your_ house. Sirius left this to you.” 

“And neither Sirius nor I have ever called this house a home. Hear me out,” he took a hold of her hands as he sat opposite from her. “I moved into Grimmauld because I didn't know where else I could go. I used to think that one day I could live here with Sirius… 

“I think I need to build a new home for me, for Teddy. He’ll be running around soon and he shouldn’t feel like he has to walk on eggshells because of Walburga’s portrait. I know I’m only his godfather, but I want to raise him well.”

Hermione pulled Harry into a hug. For months, she’d grown more and more in love with Harry, pushing aside any doubt that their coupling was only about sexual tension. She loved his compassion, his attention and care, how easy it was for them to spend time together plotting over the next big rescue. Hermione could finally admit she was in love with Harry because he was also at peace with himself. 

“I love you, Harry.”

She felt his smile widened against her neck, “I know.”

“Figures my love confession would resemble a Star Wars scene.” Hermione laughed and told him about the movie she’d once seen with her parents long ago. “But in all seriousness, I do. I’m in love with you and I’m so proud of you, Harry. You can count on me to help you find your next home.” 

“That’s excellent because I’ve already asked Leo to look into the Grimmauld deed. I know you’re just starting, but I have faith in you and your brilliant plans and in less than a year, you’ll need a bigger space.”

“You really believe we can do this, don’t you?” 

“Of course I do. There’s no one like you, Hermione.” Harry thought his actions spoke for themselves, but it was moments like this when Hermione understood that Harry was a man of words. More than that, she knew that he loved her back.

They fell into bed where both proceeded to remove their clothing, unwrapping layers of a newfound promise and hopeful future. Afterwards, fully spent and slacked, they spooned under the covers. 

“I should be ready in August,” Hermione broke their silence. 

“Hmm?” Harry sighed from beside her. 

“Grimmauld. Have Leo take his time with it while I prepare my team. In August, Lavender will have more interviews scheduled and a distribution plan. I will also be on Summer Break to coordinate the take-over.” 

“How about July? I’ll hire someone to help clean up.”

Hermione considered this before she agreed. She moved to face him and plan their next steps. “Know where you want to move?” 

“Well, London is pretty big,” he kissed her nose. “I really liked the farmer’s market we went to that one time. Want to go back?”

“We can do that and walk around more neighorboods,” Hermione offered.

“It’s a date.”

“I assume you’re looking for a house?”

“We can start with three bedroom houses. Hermione,” his voice changed into a more serious tone. “In the near future I’m going to ask you to move in with me. I don’t know when — or if you’ll say yes. But I want you to know, I’m pretty set on spending the rest of my life with you. I want to be ready when that time comes.”

Hermione gasped. His eyes were as determined as they’d ever been. Just when she thought she had given her heart to him, Harry presented a whole new and thrilling challenge for the two of them. “I will be ready, sometime in the near future I also want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“We’ll take our time,” he sealed his promise with a kiss. 

That night, Hermione dreamt of flying hippogriphs above their bed, of a different Grimmauld Place where they finally replaced the family tapestry with a community mural, and a little raven-haired toddler flying above ground out in the garden. 

~ * ~ 

Percy Weasley was an enthusiastic advisor. Hermione would not have imagined that the Perfect Prefect of Hogwarts was open to the fight for justice and accessibility for magical beings. But the war taught him many things, and as Harry once said, his loose lips were an asset for her initial policy drafts. Therefore, when Percy recommended Lee Jordan to be her Public Relations Manager, she did not hesitate and reached out to the _Potterwatch_ radio host and WWW Brand Manager.

Hermione took note of Lee’s curious gaze as it moved from one artifact to the next in the Grimmauld drawing room. His eyes landed on the Black Family Portrait and she felt the need to apologize. “Sorry about the less than welcoming family tapestry. We’ve been trying to remove it for ages.”

“Have you tried paint?” Lee asked.

“Muggle paint can work?” 

“No, but magical paint used for wizarding portraits could. You’d probably need someone as talented as Dean. Still talk to Dean Thomas?” Lee made himself comfortable. He acted as if they’d last seen each other over lunch than at Fred’s funeral. She welcomed it. 

“Yeah, we do. I just never thought to broach the subject. Thank you, Lee, I’ll make sure to owl Dean for his availability.”

He dunked a biscuit into his tea and cut to the chase. “Your owl was a little vague and George has no idea what you’ve been up to, other than Muggle school. So, shoot.”

Hermione assumed her best professional voice. “I’m launching a non-governmental advocacy organisation to fight for all magical beings in Britain, change their legal status from magical beasts, offer financial support to returning muggle-borns, protect werewolves’ rights, and end house-elf mistreatment and servitude. I’m taking this campaign to the Ministry, but need someone with experience and contacts to help us gain public support.

“I believe your experience at the Department of Magical Games and Sports and the Daily Prophet’s sports desk where you had access to all quidditch teams and traveled abroad. You’re a great communicator, have the connections, and like rebelling against fascists governments.”

Lee looked quite pleased with the assessment. 

“Yet, I still haven’t worked out why you quit your well salaried job at _The Daily Prophet_.”

Lee smiled and leaned back on the couch. “I quit because they wouldn’t let me write a story about Uganda’s magical refugee quidditch tournament.”

“What about it?” Hermione knew about the Uagadou School of Magic located in the Mountains of the Moon, Uganda, but she had not ready anything about their quidditch team or the apparent refugee tournament organised. 

“You’ve read about the Muggle Ugandan government having the biggest refugee system?” Lee chuckled when Hermione enthusiastically nodded. “Of course you have.”

“It came up on our human rights course. The country has set up an amazing system where they welcome refugees: provide shelter, education, employment and the same health benefits as its citizens. It’s incredible.”

“Where do you think the witches go?” Lee caught Hermione by surprise and smirked to himself. There were still things for her to learn.

“Oh.” Hermione edged closer to the end of her seat and thought of the additional reading list to supplement her course. “So the Prophet refused because it was about all magical beings, not just a witches tournament?” 

“You’re really perceptive, but yeah, pretty much. The Prophet’s Editorial was on an Elderwood-binge and kept pushing my article to the point where they straight out came out and said no one cared about magical beings and bestial solidarity.”

Their conversation carried them through various topics, particularly how Lee single handedly, during Hogwarts executed well design-campaigns for WWW. Hermione was impressed with his creative genius and his own personal fight for justice. Hermione trusted her gut and it told her that Lee would be a great fit for their growing team. Still, it was technically her first interview and she wanted to go through all the steps. “Do you have any questions for me?”

“Why the secrecy with launching this organisation? The Hermione Granger I met at Hogwarts talked your ear off about S.P.E.W.”

“That was a learning experience, not that I regret it, but I wish I knew then what I know now about house-elves. All to say, I don’t want to make the same mistakes. I’m taking my time with The Alliance because I want to do it well, otherwise, I could cause more harm than good.”

Lee also asked her if she had aspirations for the Wizengamot, which she quickly clarified. 

“Honestly, I considered it briefly, but my summer internship with Madame Wood taught me how much work still needs to be done. We can pressure the government to act and not get caught up in political games. Our mission is very clear, to let all magical folk live in peace and harmony.”

The glint in Lee’s eyes was familiar to Hermione. After all, she’d seen the brilliant tricks and magic that George and Fred developed at Hogwarts which earned many awes and claps from her interviewee. “

Lee, I would like to offer you a job with The Alliance, as our PR Manager. I’ve read your clips and know you haven’t stopped holding the government accountable. Not since Potterwatch. We can build that together. Would you think about it?” 

“Honestly, I’ve been sold since you first described Alliance. I also feel personally responsible for your success as a spokesperson. We’ll work on your pitch,” he made a friendly suggestion. 

“Deal. Kreacher will draw up the paperwork and owl it to you to look over…” 

Lee started to work for The Alliance on Monday 10 April after negotiating his annual salary (Ten Thousand Galleons). Immediately after, he devised a strategy for the official launch of the Alliance. On the first of May, on the eve of their Hogwarts Victory against Tom Riddle, Hermione penned an editorial in the Daily Prophet, calling for justice of magical folk to begin. 

**_We should allow ourselves to create the New Age of Magic_ **

_Hermione J. Granger_

_My first Hogwarts letter opened an endless world of possibilities. As a child, I imagined being part of an extraordinary world with gifted witches, dragons, and other magical beings that lived harmoniously together, and by some lucky streak, I was a witch! On the Eve of the Battle of Hogwarts, we are farther from that dream than ever before, but we have a chance to create a New Age of Magic for all magical folk._

_Two thirds of witches in Britain live in fear of further isolation [Daily Prophet Nov ‘99] from other communities around the world, including the Continent. At the start of the new millennium, we are closer to Tom Riddle’s goals to destroy our kind (Read more about Tom Riddle, known as Lord Voldemort by his followers, on A13) after his death than when he was in power. What hope can we give to our children in an isolated future? It is time to rectify our past by unifying with all magical beings in Britain._

_Our current magical standards cut us from achieving our full potential as a competitive community across the globe. Take Mr Lupin’s, the most competent Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts (1993-1994) in the last century, forced to quit in fear of retaliation for his status as werewolf. There is also Dobby, an elf who was ignored by high officials when he raised the alarm and warned us about Lord Voldemort_ — _in 1992! We must recognize our prejudice and change our policies before they continue to put us at risk._

 _That is why I have founded_ The Alliance _, an advocacy and welfare organisation fighting for justice and recognition of all Magical Beings. We are committed to the prosperity and humanity of our communities. As a welfare organisation, we are setting up programs for free distribution of Wolfsbane to anyone that needs it and setting a 15,000G grant for the Ministry’s W.A.N.D. education campaign so no magical being is without an instrument and is free to perform magic. Our advocacy team will fight for the legal recognition of Werewolves and present a case at the Wizengamot._

_We are just getting started._

_-_

_Hermione J. Granger is Founder and Executive Director of The Alliance, an organisation to improve the welfare of all magical beings, and sits at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry Board of Governors. She was awarded Merlin’s First Class for her triumphs at the Battle of Hogwarts May 1998 by Minister Shacklebolt. Miss Granger resides in London where she attends Muggle University to obtain a law degree. Her parents are muggle healers who clean teeth._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably the shortest chapter of the story, but I wanted to be concise and clear in what Hermione is building (both with The Alliance and Harry). Personally, I'm very pleased with her op-ed, but it was also really hard to write, haha. I would love to hear your feedback, hopes, and what you think is still missing. Our next chapter is the last one. But if I'm honest, I am not ready to part with these characters yet.


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